Lavellan
1.
His eyes flew open and at first the Inquisitor thought he had gone blind, for the light in the room was so dim he could hardly make out the shapes of the furniture piled up in the opposite corner. Lavellan felt numb and as he tried to move his body, he realised, with growing horror, that he could not. As the elf tried to call for help, nothing but a hoarse croak came out - his throat felt just as delightful as the summer in Anderfels.
I am going to die. Or am I dead? It feels like I am...
"... help..."
A pitiful whisper fell from his lips and the Inquisitor felt his head spinning. Such tiny effort had cost him all the energy he could muster. As he tried to stop the room from spinning and flashing with bright colours, soft footsteps had reached his ears and the dim light became brighter and warmer. A light of a small candle.
"Awake at last. I was starting to loose hope."
That voice. Soft and calm, with a spark of sarcasm hidden within it. It belonged to no-one else but Solas, an elven apostate mage that had joined them at Haven. Lavellan found Solas to be fascinating to talk to about all things elven history even though on more then one ocasion the disdain of the mage towards the Dalish was a bit of a turnoff. Turning his neck felt like the whole new feat of strength but Valmyrion had managed at last.
"Solas?... Where?"
"Hush, my friend. You have to get your strength back. Here, drink this."
Whatever it was, it smelled like nug's shit but the Inquisitor drank the bitter liquid and let his head fall back on the pillow, feeling warm sensation radiating from his stomach and spreading all over his body.
He had surely passed out, for when the next time Lavellan had opened his eyes, the light of the candle was replaced with rays of sunshine falling through the window and the cracks in the wall. This time the attempt to stand up was much more productive and Valmyrion actually made it all the way to the door before collapsing on the floor right in front of it. This felt degrading but after many attempts to lift himself up by clutching at the doorknob, Valmyrion gave up and knocked faintly. The door opened, and as Lavellan's eyes traveled upwards, his gaze met with that of Solas'.
"You could have called."
"I wanted to do this by myself." something in apostate's intonation made the Inquisitor bristle, his golden eyes flashing in anger.
"Admirable. And yet here you are," Lavellan could swear he heard fleeting mockery in Solas' voice. "Let me help you."
Valmyrion's pride dictated him to push away the helping hand and do it on his own. The rest of his senses were screaming the opposite and, as in most cases, they prevailed, making Lavellan grab elf's outstretched hand and crawl up slowly. His joints, his muscles... The whole body felt alien to him. Last thing the Inquisitor had remembered was being buried alive by the snow. But wherever they were, it looked nothing like the buildings in Haven.
"I feel... horrible," he confessed, rubbing his forehead. The hand on his face, just like everything, felt wrong and not the way he remembered at all. When he actually lifted his palm closer to the eyes Lavellan was schocked to see a thin hand with joints so visible under pale skin you could almost see through it. A hand of an old man. Only now Valmyrion noticed how big his clothes felt. Something was very wrong and so he stopped in his tracks. "Solas, mirror. Anything, just please, I need... I need to see."
The mage looked around and soon came back with big dusty silver tray. With trembling hands Lavellan reached to wipe away the layer of dust so he could see himself properly. What the Inquisitor saw made him cringe. Back at him stared pale creature so thin, he almost looked ghoulish. Eyes sat deep in their sockets, sorrounded by circles so dark it made him look like a raccoon. Flock of unkempt raven black hair and the ears... He was so malnourished that they poked out like ears of a rabbit. Or knives. It made the Inquisitor grin just for a second but then he made a disgusted noise and turned away.
"What had happened?"
Solas took a deep breath - clear indication that the story would be unpleasent and sat down, his face full of sorrow. Only now, with stray rays of light illuminating elf's face, Lavellan could see how tired Solas looked. His features showed lack of sleep as well as plenty of worry.
"The Inquisition died at Haven that day. Commander Cullen, in fear for your life no doubt, set the trebuchet before people could escape. Countless were buried under the snow."
A desperate scream. A twang of the release mechanism. A sound of death rolling down the mountain. He waited as much as he could but would not allow the Inquisitor to die .
"Then why am I here? Where this 'here' is?"
"It is better if you see for yourself," Solas stood up and once again offered the Inquisitor his hand. "Come."
Together they walked through desolate hallways till finally Solas opened the door and waves of light poured in, making Valmyrion gasp and turn away. Blindly he stumbled after Solas, afraid to open his eyes in fear of getting blind. After a while, when the sunlight stopped burning, Lavellan carefully lifted his head up and looked around. They were standing on the battlements, the wind lazily tugging on their clothes. The sun was reflecting from countless mountains, making their snow - covered peaks shimmer like diamonds. Wherever this place was, it was definitely secluded enough not to be found. Below the battlements the Inquisitor saw large yard with what looked like old, half - collapsed stables. Several crumbled stairways led either inside the main section of the stronghold or on the upper levels.
"Welcome to Skyhold, Inquisitor. An ancient forgotten fortress, few remember existing."
"How do you know about it then?" suspicion in Valmyrion's voice rolled off Solas, like a water from the goose. The mage smiled calmly and turned towards the mountains in the west.
"I've heard the whispers in the Fade about this place and knew how to find it."
The Inquisitor felt tha Solas was not telling him something but he let it slide, for now.
"Are we... alone? Who made it out?"
"Cassandra, Varric, myself and about dozen of people that were lucky enough to be in the tunnel at the time."
That stung so badly. Haven had housed hundred, if not more. Volunteers, refugees, people he started to call friends. For the next question Lavellan had to muster all the courage he had, for he knew the answer but wanted to hear it.
"Dorian?"
Dorian Pavus. A handsome dashing Tevinter mage that had joined their group in Redcliffe, after the things went awry. They hit it off almost immediately. While the rest of the Inquisition was suspicious of the Tevinter presense in their camp, Valmyrion used his chance to learn more about the newcomer and his culture. Dorian had a lot to say, most of it not nice at all and by the end of the first day the Inquisitor was completely fascinated with the Tevinter. Dorian, in turn, seemed to take interest in a Dalish elf with sassy attitude, sharp tongue and bright mind. The evenings the Inquisitor could spare were spent either talking about literature or playing chess. One such evening a game of chess turned out to be particularly intense and eventually ended up in Lavellan's quarters. The thought made Valmyrion turn away from Solas, tips of his ears bright red in shame.
"I do not know. I came back to find the Anchor, I could not spare time for anyone else."
"I see."
Lavellan turned around and slowly started to make way back to his quarters. He felt dizzy, short of breath and wished he did not wake up at all. Cullen, Leliana, Dorian... All those people. He hit the wall, tearing the knuckle open, blood trickling from the scrape. Valmyrion was angry. Cullen made a mistake. He should have waited. One life versus so many.
I came back to find the Anchor.
That is what he is. The Anchor with a person attached to it. Cullen wanted to preserve the means to end this nightmare, even at the cost of his own life and the lives of people who had entrusted themselves to the Inquisition. The anger gave way to self - pity and just for a moment Valmyrion wished he had never volunteered for this mission at all. However, his younger brother Mahanon, sweet, idealistic and slightly naive, wanted to leave the clan very badly and Valmyrion could not allow it. He made the Keeper see his way, using the position as an understudy to convince the First that it would benefit the future of the clan to learn about humans as much as possible. But just imagining his brother going through the same fate sobered Lavellan up and he sighed, putting wounded knuckle to his lips and trying to stop the bleeding. The next moment the door flew open, making Valmyrion jump up and turn around.
"Solas, I..."
"Andraste's sweet ass, the Inquisor! You are awake, I can't believe it!"