CHAPTER NINE

When Myra returned from Redcliffe, Solas immediately went to his cabin. Myra watched him leave and sighed.

"Come," Cassandra said. "We should debrief the others."

"Drink?"

Myra turned to see Dorian hadn't left the Chantry after the debriefing. His usual flamboyancy and playfulness were replaced by a somber sincerity.

He twiddled his moustache. "I think we both need one."

Myra smiled a bit. "I think I could use a drink…or three."

Dorian chuckled. "I like the way you think. Let's drink ourselves into a stupor, shall we?"

They headed into the tavern. Dorian ordered their drinks, starting them off with some Antivan Sip-sip.

They made small-talk about this and that, discussing their preferred branches of magic and how their talents affected their lives. For Myra, it meant becoming First to the Keeper and taking on all the responsibilities it entailed. For Dorian, it meant security in the Imperium's hierarchy and gaining an apprenticeship under Alexius.

"Did you travel?" Myra asked.

"To other parts of the Imperium, but I'm guessing you mean outside of Tevinter." He took a shot of whiskey and immediately signaled for another. "In which case, no, coming here is my first time journeying outside of the Imperium."

Myra took her shot. Dorian signaled another for her.

"What about you?"

"This is my first time outside the Free Marches. My clan stayed outside of Wycome my entire life."

"So it seems we're both strangers in a strange land."

Myra laughed. "I suppose so."

"Mind if I join you?"

Dorian and Myra turned to see Blackwall standing beside their tables. Myra looked to Dorian, who smirked. "I have a better idea. You can take my seat while I find some light reading."

"You're leaving me?" Myra cried.

"Oh, darling, you sound positively distressed. As much as I enjoy the company of an elven maiden who's almost as charming as myself, I would hate to be a third wheel in this carriage ride."

Myra flushed wildly and Blackwall choked on his ale.

Dorian scoffed. "Oh come now, you both can do better than that. At least, I'd hope so." Dorian clicked his tongue, then snapped his fingers. "Idea, be back." He hurried to the bar, having remarkably good balance for how much he and Myra had drank.

He came back and slammed a bottle on the table. "Grey Whiskey for the woodsy Warden-elfy couple." He saluted. "Enjoy."

Myra frowned. "I still can't believe you're leaving."

"Oh, Lady Lavellan, with all I'll hear about your night of debauchery following this bottle I so kindly provided, will it be like I ever left?"

"That didn't make any sense!"

"Exactly!" He made to leave.

"Wait!" Myra called after him. "Take care of Fennec for me? She's in my cabin."

"Remove Fennec from your cabin, got it."

"That's not what I said!"

He waved goodbye.

Myra looked to Blackwall who looked back at her, then looked away slowly. Myra quickly averted her gaze. The tavern was pretty full that night, with plenty of soldiers there to ease off the burdens of training. Myra watched the soldiers around her as she and Blackwall sat in awkward silence for a bit.

"He seems alright for a Vint," the Warden finally spoke. "Slippery though."

"I like him," Myra said. "He's funny."

"He's certainly something."

Another awkward silence…

…

…

"We should drink," Myra said. "That bottle won't finish itself."

"Fair enough." Blackwall popped off the cork.

"But," Myra pushed both shot-glasses towards him. "Since I've already been drinking, you have to take two shots for every one I take."

Blackwall chuckled a bit and began to fill the glasses. "As you wish."

Myra bit her lip, smirking. "So obedient."

He took both of his shots before filling a glass for her. Playfully, she pushed the shot back to him and gave him an expectant look.

Shaking his head, he took the shot. "I aim to please." He poured another shot and passed it to her. This time, she gulped it down.

"So, where are you from?"

"Free Marches, originally."

"Me too," Myra perked up. "What part? Well, actually, I suppose there's no point in asking. I don't know anything outside of Wycome."

He took two shots. "Is that where you're from?"

"My clan's from there." She took one. "Elgar'nan, this is strong."

Blackwall took another two shots. "This night will either end wonderfully or terribly."

"Or both."

He passed her a shot. She wanted to wait a bit before drinking anymore, but looking at the bottle, she saw they'd barely made a dent.

Blackwall chuckled. "We still have a ways to go."

They drank some more, progressively growing drunker and drunker.

"How was Redcliffe?" Blackwall asked. "You recruit the mages? Well done, my lady."

Myra banged her hand on the table. "Elgar'nan, finally some support."

Blackwall tugged at his beard. "There will always be people who disagree with your actions."

"What do you do?" Myra asked. "I can't please everyone."

"I'll tell you what you do." Blackwall leaned in close. "You stand by the right ones and admit to your mistakes."

"I'm almost completely sure I made the right decision."

"Well, stand by it then!"

"Will you stand with me?" Myra asked. "It's lonely to stand alone."

"Even if the whole world stood against you," Blackwall said.

Myra bit her lip, cheeks flushing. "Mmm, I like that."

"What?" Blackwall blinked slowly.

"Your passion." Myra leaned in closer to him. The noise around them seemed to drone out into the background as she stared into Blackwall's eyes.

He leaned closer himself, murmuring in her ear. "Do you now?"

"I do."

He kissed her neck and she hummed in pleasure, cheeks flushing bright red. Suddenly, he shook his head, pulling back. "You're a fine lady, Herald. I wish I could be the man you deserve."

Myra caressed his cheek and looked him in the eye. "I think I'll decide what I deserve."

And she kissed him.

Blackwall closed the door to Myra's cabin behind them. Myra leaned forward and fell into him. He lost his balance and they both tumbled backwards into the door, but neither of them cared. Myra leaned in and started kissing him, giggling. Blackwall growled and buried his face in her neck, biting and sucking. Myra moaned and pulled his hair, which only encouraged him.

"Are you sure about this?"

Myra kept kissing him. She began untying his tunic.

That night, after Blackwall had fallen asleep, Myra cried to herself. "Elgar'nan, what have I done?" In the shadows of the room, she saw red lyrium jutting from the walls. In the winds howl, she heard Cassandra's haunting Chant. She smelled the campfire as Solas had ignored her. She felt Blackwall's hands touch her.

These all continued to haunt her, even when she finally slipped into the Fade.

"Morning," Blackwall said.

Myra groaned and tossed the covers back over her head. "The light hurts."

Blackwall sighed. "Trust me, I understand. We both had too much."

"I blame Dorian." Myra's voice was muffled by the bed sheets.

"That man needs to learn a thing or two about limits." Blackwall gently lifted the sheets off of Myra's face and extended a hand. Myra took it, grasping the sheets around her body as Blackwall helped her out of bed.

She flushed. "Can you…pass me my clothes?"

"Erm, yes, of course." Blackwall looked around the room. Myra noticed Fennec was nowhere to be seen.

"Here you are," Blackwall handed her a pile of clothes. "I'm afraid I couldn't find all of them…Vaguely recall tossing your smallclothes somewhere..."

Myra did not meet his gaze. "Thank you…Could you…turn around?"

"If you prefer, I'll wait outside."

"Yes, thank you, Warden."

Myra finished dressing and wrapped her ring-velvet cloak around her trembling form. The mountain air was as cold as her insides. She knew she needed to find Fennec and figure out what she'd say when Solas found out.

"Vhenan," he'd called her in the future of what if's. His heart. "All this time, longing for what could have been…" He had…kissed her…She touched her lips, flushing.

She worked her black curls into a tight bun and headed outside. Blackwall stood outside her door, hands behind his back.

"Ready?"

Myra furrowed her brow. "Pardon?"

"Oh, I…suppose I forgot to tell you." Blackwall tugged at his beard awkwardly. "I wanted us to get some breakfast. It's sure to help with the hangover. But, I suppose we don't have to go together, if you'd rather eat some other time, or alone, or just without…me…"

Myra gave a small smile. Seemed someone had gotten attached. "Blackwall, I—"

"Herald." Leliana motioned her to her tent.

Myra sighed. "Save me a seat?"

A smile brightened Blackwall's normally depressed features. "Gladly."

The Warden left for the tavern while Myra entered Leliana's tent to see what she wanted. She passed one of the Spymaster's agents on the way inside, who nodded a greeting.

When she entered, Leliana smiled cryptically. "I hear you and Blackwall shared a bed last night."

Myra felt her guard rise. "I'm sure you hear many things, Spymaster."

Her smile widened. "There is no need to be so evasive, my lady. I merely wished to commend your ability to charm them so quickly. That's the second, no? You'd make a fine bard." Her eyes shone with cunning. "No matter, I was curious if you obtained any useful information on our mysterious Warden and apostate."

Myra smiled a bit, but her smile was coy. "Much can be learned from pillow-talk."

Leliana reflected her expression. "Well, if you happen to recall anything useful."

"Thank you, Leliana. I'll consider it." Myra started to leave the tent when the thought struck her. "Do you happen to know where Fennec is?"

"I believe she left Dorian's care to stay with Solas for the night."

Myra felt the color drain from her face. "Yes…well thank you."

"Herald, might I offer some advice?"

"Please," Myra said.

"In the Game, just like Wicked Grace, you never show your cards." Her eyes flashed with mischief. "Let him pursue you and never know he's being pursued. The less you present, the more weight added to your presence." She smiled. "Now go get some breakfast. I can feel your headache from over here. I've heard some tea brewed with Prophet's Laurel is a good remedy."

Myra smiled. "Thank you, Leliana."

As Myra walked to pick up Fennec from Solas's, anxiety clawed at her insides. If Fennec was with Solas, that meant he knew she had slept with another. It wasn't like they were betrothed, they had only known each other for a little over two months, but worry still nagged her. What would he think of her?

When she knocked on Solas's door, she heard Fennec cry out.

"Solas!"

"I heard, da'len."

He opened the door, his expression sullen and only becoming angry upon seeing Myra standing in his doorway. Fennec peeked out behind his legs.

"Fennec," Myra crouched down. Fennec hesitated. Myra felt her face drop. Fennec saw her sadness. She wormed her way past Solas and ran into her arms.

"I'm so sorry."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. And don't say it is, when it isn't. You don't need to pretend with me." Myra kissed her head.

"Okay…" Fennec kicked her in the shin.

"Ow!" Myra fell back into the snow, rubbing her shin, more out of shock than anything.

"You left me alone with the drunkard!" Fennec cried.

"Fennec, I'm sorry."

"And I couldn't go to you, I had to go to Solas."

"I know, it was wrong of me, sweetheart. Please…"

Fennec pouted and crossed her arms. "Are you really sorry?"

"I swear on my parents' graves, Fennec."

Fennec gave a huge sigh and then tackled Myra with a hug.

"Have you eaten breakfast, little one?"

"No, I wanted to wait for you."

"Well, you remember Warden Blackwall, right?"

Fennec nodded.

"Good, he's in the tavern saving seats. Go find him, please. I'll be along shortly."

Fennec looked suspiciously at her. "You're not going to leave me again, are you?"

"I'll be right there, after I talk to Solas."

"There is no need," Solas said retreating into his cabin, but he left the door slightly ajar.

Myra sighed. "Go Fennec, please. I'll be right there."

Fennec gave her one last squeeze. "Good luck, he's angry." Before she disappeared to the tavern.

Myra took a deep breath. This conversation was going to be anything but pleasant. She mentally steeled herself before she opened the door. Solas lay in his bed, arms crossed and gaze towards the window, but Myra could see in the glass's reflection that he looked downright agitated.

"Look, I know you're angry. You have every right to be angry. The flirting was just to warm him up to me, but this…this is serious."

"How serious a travesty is this, truly? A simple miscalculation on my part. Now that you've made your feelings clear—"

"No, I haven't. And you haven't either."

Solas's frown deepened. "My demeanor should speak well enough."

"Listen." Myra said, slowly approaching the bed. She knelt beside it and grabbed his hand, gently unfolding his fist into a cool caress on her cheek. "Just listen."

Solas did not protest. He afforded her a sideways gaze.

"I saw something in the possible future—"

"In this supposed time travel," Solas corrected her.

Myra sighed. "Yes. You…when we rescued you from prison…you…you said…" Myra took a deep breath. She could see Solas listening intently. "You apologized for how you acted, said you spent all those days regretting never telling me how you truly felt. 'Ar lath ma, vhenan,' you said. 'Absence fosters fondness.' And then you…" Myra blushed. "Kissed me…"

"Why did he share your bed?" Solas asked.

"Because I was drunk and scared and a warm body brought me comfort."

Suddenly, he turned to her, grabbing her shoulders. "Never again." He glowered with a force that made Myra want to obey. "Next time, you come to me. Do you understand, da'len?"

Myra bit her lip and turned her gaze downward. "Yes, hah'ren."

When Myra entered the tavern, she searched the occupants for the table the Warden had saved. She found Blackwall and Fennec sitting at the far end. When she approached, Blackwall stood up quickly, jostling the table.

"Sit down," Myra said, a little snippy.

"Sorry." Blackwall returned to his seat. He cleared his throat. "I didn't know what you wanted, but if you know, I can—"

"That won't be necessary, thank you."

Fennec swallowed a mouthful of food. "Did you talk to Solas?"

"I did." Myra leaned down and kissed her head.

"Was he angry?"

"By the Dread Wolf," Myra heaved a sigh. "Yes…"

"Is he still angry?"

Myra saw the fear in the child's eyes despite her attempts to mask it by eating her flapjacks. She petted the child's head. "No, darling, he's not angry anymore."

Blackwall looked after her as she left to get her food but said nothing until she returned.

"I hadn't realized you went to speak with the elf," he said.

Myra ate in silence. Fennec looked between the two uncomfortably, but followed Myra's lead, shoveling food into her mouth.

"Is there something between you two?"

Myra set down her fork. She chewed slowly. What was she to say to that? Was there something between her and Solas? He certainly made it seems so, she certainly felt so, and if that possible future she saw in Redcliffe was anything to judge by…

"Perhaps," she finally said.

"Perhaps," Blackwall repeated. He sighed heavily. Myra's heart sunk. Her stomach bubbled with guilt. Elgar'nan…

"So," he said. He glanced at Fennec, then looked to Myra meaningfully. "Last night…?"

"Won't happen again." She frowned, a fraction of a reflection of Blackwall's depressed features. "I'm sorry, Blackwall."

He finished his food and pushed his chair out. "Understood. It's probably for the best." He gave a smile…one that seemed forced. "Thank you, anyways. It was nice while it lasted."

He left his plate of food half-finished and left the tavern. Myra looked after him and felt her heart plummet to her stomach.

Did I make the right choice?

She supposed there was really no way to tell. It was then she heard the bells of the Chantry ringing. Fennec reached for her hand and held it in hers.

Myra looked to her and forced a smile. "Come, Fennec, we'll be late to morning service."

"As the Inquisition grows, let us remember that we are all children of the Maker. Let us welcome our newest allies with open arms," Mother Giselle said. "I sense tension surrounding the mages and many have come to me asking for comfort, seeking guidance. Brothers and sisters, let us remember the Canticle of Transfigurations: 'Magic exists to serve man.' Allow it to serve you, and ponder how you might give back in return."

Myra shifted a bit in her seat and put her arm around Fennec. She accidentally brushed Cullen's arm on the back of the pews. She mouthed 'Sorry,' to him but he shook his head and took his arm down. Fennec listened attentively to Mother Giselle.

"Let us recall that Andraste herself delivered a mage to us in our darkest hour to help seal the Breach," the Mother continued. "And she has welcomed others with the Gift to join us."

"I wasn't saved by Andraste," Myra murmured.

Cassandra shushed her.

When the service ended, they walked out together.

"A rather radical sermon," Cullen grumbled. "One that many of the Chantry would not agree with."

"There are those who do," Cassandra said.

"I like the Mother's talks," Fennec said. She ran a bit and jumped into the snow, crunching two tiny holes under her feet. "They make me happy."

"I like them too, child." Myra smirked at the Seeker. "Though, I'd like them more if Cassandra didn't shush me."

She scoffed. "It's a sermon, not a discussion." Then, she shook her head, looking down to the ground. "Do you truly believe you were not saved?"

"Saved?" Myra surreptitiously patted a snowball in her hands. "Certainly."

"But not by Andraste?"

Myra could sense that a fully honest answer would not be the best one. Cassandra had dedicated her life to the Chantry and had helped to create this army of the faithful. So, Myra merely threw her snowball at Fennec, then shrugged. "I don't remember. I can't say anything for certain."

"You're avoiding the question."

"And you're pressing me for an answer." Myra saw Fennec's incoming snowball and dodged behind Cullen, who got lobbed in the face.

He coughed and sputtered, wiping the snow from his face, though flakes still stuck in his hair and eyelashes. "Let it go, Cassandra," Cullen said. He ducked down to roll a snowball and Myra used the opportunity to throw one at Fennec, who flattened herself into the snow and crawled behind the Requisition's Table.

The Seeker looked to the lot of them, then scoffed. "Such children." She could barely finish the sentence before the Commander landed a hit clear in her stomach. She yelped, then snarled. Cullen snickered from the other side of the Chantry, taking cover behind the walls. Cassandra ducked behind the Chanter's board and started rolling her own arsenal.

Meanwhile, Myra had already hidden herself in Leliana's tent. She put a finger over her mouth, signaling to Leliana and the scout within to keep quiet. She reached out from the cover of the tent to gather some snow and started crafting her ammunition.

"I do have to say, Herald," Cullen shouted, "for someone who doesn't seem to believe in the Maker, I'm surprised you came back for a second service."

And you just gave away your position. She waited for the Commander to reach for more snow before launching a snowball in his direction. He cursed.

"Why not?" she shouted back. "Fennec enjoys it, and Mother Giselle is a good speaker." She shrugged. "Besides, as 'Herald of Andraste' I might as well learn a thing or two about what I represent."

Suddenly, she felt an onslaught of ice and snow roll down the inside of her clothes. She shrieked and leapt out of the tent, only to be pelted by an onslaught of snowballs. She covered her face and ran as Fennec laughed up a storm behind her. She slipped on some ice and fell, face first, onto the path to the Chantry.

"Ooooh, that's not fair!" she cried, rolling on the ground. Fennec doubled over laughing and Cassandra and Cullen high-fived.

"Dirthara-ma (May you learn)," Myra spat.

"Oh come on, Herald, take a joke," Cullen said, laughing.

"I'll take a joke when I'm not wet and freezing!" Myra glared at him. "Or maybe I should shove some snow in the back of your shirt?"

"I'd like to see you try," Cullen said.

Myra shot up, grabbing a handful of snow and ran after him. He bolted down the path, past the tavern, cracking up laughing.

He ran past Solas, dodging around him. She followed his lead.

"Ir abelas!" She shouted back. "Gotta shove snow down his back!"

Solas sighed.

Myra followed Cullen around Haven, lapping past the Chantry three times before finally doubling over, panting hard. By the Dread Wolf, this bastard has some stamina. Sweat dripped from her face into the snow below and she held up her hand. "Alright, alright, enough. You win."

"That's what I thought," Cullen said, a haughty smirk on his face. He approached her to solidify the surrender.

Quickly, Myra grabbed a handful of snow. She flung it in his face then made a feeble attempt to run away.

"Oh no you don't!" He tackled her quickly, launching them both into a pile of snow off the path.

Myra groaned, feeling the wet cold surround her. It seeped into her clothes and chilled her to the bone. Cullen's weight pressed atop her, and the buff Commander felt even heavier when she was exhausted and pressed into a pile of snow. He laughed, sitting up on top of her.

"Given up?"

Myra tossed snow in his face and he returned the onslaught.

"The Herald of Andraste will never surrender!" Myra cried.

Finally, Cullen grabbed both of her arms and pinned them over her head. "What? I couldn't hear you. What's that about surrendering?"

"I hope the Dread Wolf eats you in a single bite," Myra said.

But Cullen…didn't respond… He just stared at her. Myra didn't understand at first, then she flushed, realizing the rather compromising position he had put her in. His hands held her wrists firmly as he straddled her in their little snow pile that hid the rest of Haven from Myra's sight. The only thing she could see was Cullen's face, so close to hers that she could see how stress had lined his brow and wrinkled the corners of his lips. His eyes seemed tired, as though he hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in a long time, but his hazel gaze sparked when it met hers. Myra felt herself flush.

Then, Solas's word echoed in her mind. Never again. Next time, you come to me.

She frowned and looked away, guilt bubbling inside her. She felt Cullen's grip on her loosen, the he sat up quickly.

"S-sorry." He cleared his throat and outstretched a hand. She took it, but let go quickly.

"It's alright, it was my fault." Myra twisted her betrothal ring, looking at the ground. "Excuse me," she said, pushing him away gently. She found Fennec talking animatedly with Cassandra about something Myra was suddenly too tired to comprehend. She petted Fennec's hair as she passed before her feet found their way to Solas's cabin, but for some reason, the usual excitement before seeing him did not fill her.

Instead, she was filled with dread.