Lavellan
1.
As they parted ways with Varric, who promised to let Lavellan know if he managed to find Hawke and her Grey Warden buddy. Varric, being his gossipy self, even dropped a hint that, last he heard, Hawke and the warden were hitting it off quite nicely.
"If you know what I mean." he winked.
Frankly, Lavellan knew neither of the parties involved but he humored Varric by putting a surprised face. According to the dwarf, Hawke liked men with a bit of Blight in them. Firstly, there was that half-baked Grey Warden and a mage by the name of Anders, who also happened to be the key figure in setting the mage rebellion in motion. When it literally exploded in Hawke's face she was very much done with him.
By the time Varric had finished gossiping like a butcher's wife, Lavellan knew much more about Hawke's preference in men then he ever needed to. But the dwarf hungered for audience and so their descent down the Frostback Mountains was slow and anything but quiet. Valmyrion had to admit he felt very relieved when he finally waved Varric goodbye.
"This is the most talkative Child of the Stone I have ever met." said Solas thoughtfully as he caught up with the Inquisitor. Through the majority of descent he kept himself in the Varric - free zone, pretending to cover the rear. As far as Lavellan was concerned, Solas pretty much threw him under a metaphorical carriage and, more then once, Inquisitor's keen elven ears caught quiet chuckling behing his back - Solas seemed to find Valmyrion's almost palpable suffering quite amusing.
"We need to find Cassandra. She must know where the others are," Lavellan headed towards the misty grove ahead but Solas caught his arm - for a soft-spoken and mild mannered person he had an iron grasp.
"Wait. Before you go, there is something we need to discuss."
The Inquisitor stopped in his tracks and turned around to face his companion. Solas' face bore a concerned expression and he still had his hand on Lavellan's arm. The Anchor - bearing one.
"We will, no doubt, encounter the rifts along the way. Do not close them."
Lavellan opened his mouth to object but said nothing, glaring at Solas and frowning.
"I understand that this is not what you want to hear, Inquisitor, but it is vital that we stay as hidden as possible. If you close a rift. Even one! The consequences..." he took a breather and finally let Lavellan go. "Might be more then we can handle."
Valmyrion rubbed his arm carefully and looked down at his hand. As a precaution, Solas made him wear a glove, to hide the faint green light that was pulsating under Inquisitor's skin. Back at Haven, the closer Lavellan would get to the rift, the brighter the light would shine and the more physical discomfort the Anchor caused its bearer.
"Solas, what you are asking.."
"Is an ugly necessity, Inquisitor."
"You are asking me to let innocents die!" the usually mild-mannered Lavellan shoved Solas in the chest but the elf managed to keep his balance. The Anchor, feeling the agression of its host, shot out an angry spark, making Valmyrion yelp in pain and surprise.
"If you die, there is no hope for anyone, Inquisitor. Sacrificing some is the lesser evil you have to be willing to do if we are to stop the Elder One."
The waves of numbness in Lavellan's arm started to subside. He hated to admit that Solas was right. They were all alone and even if Inquisitor felt and looked much better since his awakening, they would not stand a chance against the enemy. While there was no proof that the Elder One was watching there was equally no proof that he was not. As long as the Anchor stayed hidden - so did the Inquisitor, for few outside Haven knew his face. Two 'knife-ears', one of them being Dalish, would attract some curious stares but not as much as 'the Inquisitor' would.
"You have a point, Solas," Lavellan muttered and briefly hung his head in defeat. "I... Will do as you say."
And so he kept his promise. During their travels through the forests of the Hinterlands they had encountered a couple of rifts but, to Lavellan's relief, they were quite far away from any villages. It seemed that the demons breaking through the Veil were still unable to fully escape the confinement of the rift. Every time they were near the distortion though, the Anchor would start glowing and sending waves of pain through the Inquisitor's arm. He was learning to cope with it better with much help from Solas, who taught him a couple of simple exercises to disconnect one's mind from physical body.
"We need to go to a tavern," said Lavellan, as they settled down for the night in yet another cave and were roasting a rabbit the Inquisitor caught earlier. As much as he did not like his brother insisting on Valmyrion learning how to hunt, it came in handy when he least expected it. "People in taverns talk. We might hear something about Cassandra."
"And what if people start talking about us instead?" as per usual, Solas was erring on the side of caution.
"A quirky elven couple had graced us with their presence. Want to bet the pretty halla rider is the bottom?"
Solas flushed and then grumbled something inaudible in elvhen. Lavellan pat himself on the back. If Dorian were here, he would definitely appreciate the saucy joke.
"Truly, Solas, this cave - dwelling will get us nowhere. The more we hide, the less time we have left to act. This 'Shadow War' will take its time to ripen. We need allies, people who can help us. And they are not to be found here." Valmyrion spread his arms in a dramatic fashion, almost touching the opposite walls with his fingertips.
Solas was silent for a while, staring at the cracking fire. He finally released a sigh and looked at the Inquisitor.
"You are absolutely right. It is just... I spent so much time hiding and being on my own it is hard to put my faith in anyone but myself."
"You did it once, Solas. The second time is easier."
The sun was setting, painting the skies above them in fantastic colours. Inquisitor's neck was hurting from constantly staring upwards but he had missed being surrounded by nature like this. Back at home he and Mahanon would often take trips together - Valmyrion was studying and collecting herbs, while his brother prowled around in search for game. And also feathers. Many beautiful feathers that would later end up in Keeper's hands and Mahanon would pester his elder brother to explain in more detail what the new acquired piece of lore really meant. Good times.
A familiar tingle ran up the Inquisitor's arm; the same moment Solas stopped in his tracks and slowly scanned their surroundings. The forest was thinning and they were expecting to come out somewhere on the main road before the nightfall. Both elves glanced at each other and nodded, hastily walking towards the source of the disturbance they have felt. Solas' words rang in the Inquisitor's mind. A couple of dead bears near the secluded rifts he could live with. But a tear in the Veil on the open road...
First they saw the familiar green light, then they heard the screams. Lavellan's steady pace had turned to sprinting and before he knew it, the forest had stayed behind and they found themselves exactly where the Inquisitor dreaded to be - the rift had opened near a small inn by the side of the road. He could see ghostly silhouettes behind the windows. At least two rage demons were trying to get inside, the direct result of that being one corner of the inn catching fire.
Lavellan had almost forgotten how right the staff felt in his hands. He had made it himself, the ironbark decorated with intricate carvings, most of which were in the honour of the gods. The staff was made for battle, light to carry and easy to swing around. With a growl of rage Valmyrion slammed it into the ground as he cast an ice spell, that darted off to the nearby demon. It screeched in pain and turned towards the offender. Something engulfed Lavellan in blue light - a barrier, cast by Solas, no doubt. They worked quite well as a team, Inquisitor had forgotten about that. They fought together once, on their way to the Temple of Sacred Ashes at the very beginning of this whole mess. Solas tried to pass himself as a pacifist and a scholar back then but as Lavellan observed the nomad elf twirling around and casting spells, as if in some beautiful dance, he was not so sure. Solas knew battle. And not just from his Fade dreams, it was the way only the one who felt the heat of battle knows. Before too long the demons were dealt with but the rift was still active.
"Inquisitor!"
"I will deal with whatever comes, Solas! I need to do this!"
There was something in the nomad's eyes... A trace of relief. He did not want to see innocents dead any more then Lavellan did. Perhaps, would the roles be reversed, Solas would walk away but it was not his decision to make. The Inquisitor lifted his left hand and the Anchor hungrily pulled at the tear, absorbing its energy, making it smaller by the second. There were faces glued to the windows of the inn, people were watching. The pulses of pain in his arm became almost unbearable when finally the rift had exploded into an array of green sparks. It was done. Exhausted and trembling, Lavellan fell on all four.
Writing reports had never been his thing. So mindnumbingly painful. Even more so when there is no-one to read them but that witch Calpernia. He stared at the feather angrily and finally crumpled it in his fist, throwing the pitiful remains of it aside. The door flew open and one of his templars rolled in, panting.
As green as grass.
"General! One of the Venatori said a rift had been closed two days ride away from here."
The Red Templar General stood up and grabbed his sword, fastening it at the belt.
"We're heading out."