To Guest: Thank you! It's awesome to hear you liked it so much. Hopefully I won't disappoint.
Disclaimer: I don't own DA. I'm just passing time writing this little one, but all credit goes to Bioware. Ana's mine though.
Of wounds and scars.
Truth be told, Anastasia had noticed her progress. She still fell off her horse more often than others, or rather was the only one falling off, but it wasn't on a daily basis anymore. For which her backside was infinitely grateful. It already hurt as it was, from spending so much time in the saddle. Even back in the Tower she had more opportunities to stand up and stretch her legs.
"You look quite grim today," a cheerful voice mumbled and soon Sera's dapple walked next to her mare. Latica looked quite sad next to the black and white horse, her being just an ordinary shade of dark brown. But her fur was glossy and nice and Anastasia liked her little mare despite her common looks.
"My butt hurts," she just griped quietly.
Sera laughed. "Too bad. Still a couple of hours before we reach Skyhold."
"I'm glad my misery brightens your day so much," she muttered, lifting her eyes to the sky. She couldn't see the sun hidden behind a veil of grey clouds, but knew they still had several hours of daylight left. And Cassandra was confident they would make it to the fortress before sunset. They had already begun the climb in the mountains, so she was probably right.
"You need to focus on other things but your aching behind," Sera suggested, smirking as she tightened her horse's reins. He reacted promptly, nearing to Latica so much Sera's and Anastasia's legs touched briefly.
"Like staying on top of my horse," she hissed, carefully leading Latica further from the troublesome elf.
"Exactly," the rogue grinned even more, mischievous sparks lighting her eyes. Her horse moved closer once again.
"Is this for the glyph?" Anastasia hissed at her, manoeuvring Latica away.
Sera chuckled darkly. "How can you even think something so terrible about me? Now, Ana, you hurt me."
"So it is," Anastasia sighed. "You got what you deserved for wanting to let me freeze throughout the night."
"And I've heard a couple of guards murmuring something about what a night it had to be. You probably weren't as cold as you had been afraid." The grin on her face faltered suddenly. "It was quite unexpected news."
"What?" Anastasia frowned, turning her voice down when a guardsman marching nearby looked their way. "Why? Is your blanket warmer?"
Sera didn't answer, but stirred her horse closer again. This time it wasn't just their legs touching. The two animals bumped into each other with their shoulders gently.
Anastasia sighed in exasperation and moved to dismount. Her butt was aching terribly and her legs begged her to change position anyway, and if she could choose between falling and walking, walking was definitely it. She freed one leg from the stirrings and as it was passing above Latica's back something swooshed by her ear. What happened next was too quick for her to register. Suddenly, she lost her balance as Latica panicked, reared up screaming, and she was falling. She heard cries and shouts, loud thuds of heavy boots.
And then her fall ended and the world exploded into white, blinding pain. Latica ran forward, dragging Anastasia behind her as her other foot got stuck in the stirrings. It felt like her head was on fire, skin scraped off her face completely, before she finally freed her leg and her body fell with a painful grunt. She heard her horse dashing away, felt the ground shaking.
She whimpered and whined, cradling her face. She felt dirt and crushed stones mixed with her blood and her hands were shaking when she watched the warm liquid on her palm. Slowly, the sounds came all back to her, and she heard it. Voices screaming, shouting orders and commands, crying in pain. Swords clashed and arrows whizzed through the air and she heard the distinctive thwack of Varric's Bianca.
She looked around. All riders were down from their horses, the scared animals running from the frenzy, some screaming in pain, arrows protruding from their bodies. Their guards had already formed a protective circle around the weaker fighters and their own archers. Up above them, hidden behind the rocks formation, their attackers raced to them, waving swords and axes above their heads, or banging them against their shields. Their war cries were cacophony of voices, not a single word intelligible.
Anastasia's hand searched for her staff and she let out a shaky breath of relief to find it safely in her hidden pocket. The wood grew warmer as soon as she touched it, reaching deep into her to channel mana. The stick elongated and the white crystal flashed on its top as she created a protective barrier around herself.
She blinked away the black spots and used the back of her hand to wipe the blood from her eyes, not even realizing she couldn't feel the pain suddenly, as she searched the rocks above them for archers. As on cue, an arrow with red feathers at its end bounced off her barrier and as she flinched, her head spun. The bolt of white energy she shot from her staff missed, spraying rocks and grit as it hit the rock two meters from the archer.
A shout alarmed her in time to see one of the attackers running to her. Dressed in full plate armour, serrated sword ready to strike her down . His eyes shone madly with bloodlust through the slit in his helmet. And then she felt it. The tingle of familiar magic that was meant to dispel her own. Her eyes widened. One chop and her barrier would be down.
Glass chinked when her staff stabbed the ground forcefully and it begun shaking around her. Dust rose from the parched path and the thug staggered, falling back. Suddenly, a screaming smudge of white and black was on him, Cassandra's sword penetrating the protective plates like it was a mere paper. She shot Anastasia a quick look and the mage nodded.
"Shoot the archers!" Cassandra bellowed at top of her lungs, trying to be heard over the fuss and clash of swords and shields. She moved awkwardly, fighting with the remnants of earthquake, teetering as she turned to face the battle. She didn't move from Anastasia, however, standing ready to protect her.
The staff pulsed with white light as she extended her protective barrier to include the warrior as well, the wood burning in her palm and tingling with magic she had poured into it, and then she focused her eyes up. Half of the archers were already down, their bodies scattered down the steep slope, bleeding and limbs twisted into unnatural angles from the fall. Some had arrows and darts in them, some were scorched by Vivienne's magic. As Anastasia shot another deadly bolt her dazed mind realized she was the only one throwing spells around. Her eyes flicked to where she remembered the skilled enchanter, but Vivienne's horned hat was nowhere to be seen. Another flash, another hit. They aimed their arrows at her and with each one ricocheted off, she felt the barrier weakening. Her knees trembled from the effort of keeping it up, sweat broke on her forehead.
And then, just as suddenly as it started, the fray was over.
"Bloody red templars," Cassandra hissed, kicking the body in front of her as she turned it around.
Anastasia groaned and leaned on her stave, suddenly feeling every single muscle of her body. Her face was on fire and the world spun around her. She collapsed on the ground, breathing through her mouth as she rested, sitting on her heels.
Then she heard her name, the call urgent and hoarse. She fought to get to her feet and then ended up being pulled up by a strong hand that grabbed her elbow. "Vivienne is down," someone whispered breathlessly. "How about your head?"
"Fine, Cass," Anastasia wheezed, blinking. "I can wait." People moved around her, searching the dead bodies and shouting their findings. They fussed over their hurt comrades and Anastasia caught the familiar sound of unstoppering a potion. "What happened to her?"
"A former templar got her. That's why I hurried to find you before they'd strike you down as well," she replied quickly, her hold becoming almost painful on Ana's arm while she led her. Her pace was too quick and Anastasia stumbled a few times from exhaustion and dizziness, but Cassandra steadied her each time.
She dragged her staff behind her and dropped it when she saw the scene. Vivienne lay unconscious, the ground around her red with her blood. Its scent was heavy in the air and it made Anastasia's stomach lurch and she gagged, falling on her knees next to her. Her head hurt as all her muscles tensed while she fought with her own body, but managed to get a control of herself. She took a ragged breath through her mouth. Carefully, she began unfolding the cut rags of her clothes to see the damage, her hands shaking even more than before. "Okay, it's bad," she mumbled, her voice weak, as she examined her ripped stomach. "Please, don't let it be too late," she wheezed and closed her eyes, hands above the wound. Searing pain burnt her insides and pulsed in her head as she tried to dig for whatever mana she got left. She stopped breathing with the effort, focusing all her attention into healing.
"It's working!" Cassandra's voice whispered when the flesh begun mending together slowly. "Just a little while longer, Ana," she encouraged the younger mange, but her words barely registered. The surroundings became a blur and than the darkness creeping at the edge of her vision for so long finally took a hold of her world.
She woke to a soft swaying and strong arm around her waist. She was leaning against something hard and uncomfortable behind her back, but her head rested in something warm and soft. She couldn't open her left eye and when she touched her face, groaning softly, she felt wet bandages under her palm.
"Slowly," a quiet voice purred into her ear. "Give it some time."
"What happened?"
"You passed out," Cullen explained softly. "While healing Vivienne. Cassandra was afraid there could be more of them so we got underway as soon as we were able."
"Is Vivienne all right? She looked really bad," she drawled wearily.
"She is going to make it. Your magic worked, but she will need more."
She moved her head, opening her right eye to look at him. "I'm afraid I can't."
He chuckled and she felt the armour behind her vibrate as he did. "She'll have to wait until we reach Skyhold. Don't worry. We're almost there."
"I want to see her," she said, trying to move but his arm around her stomach tightened.
"She lies in a stretcher towed by Cassandra's horse. She wasn't fit to sit up and ride. She woke for a moment, but before we strapped her in properly she blacked out again."
"Why am I not in a stretcher, too?" Anastasia asked quietly.
Cullen remained unresponsive for a few heartbeats. "It's a bumpy ride. Vivienne is lucky not to feel it actually. Also, we don't have that many stretches. We've lost a few man and we're taking them back to Skyhold."
"By the Maker," Anastasia stopped breathing for a moment. "How many?"
"Three of my boys," Cullen replied and his voice had an edge to it. "More wounded, but nothing as serious as Vivienne. Or you. You looked terrible when I got to you."
"Exactly what a girl wants to hear," Anastasia murmured, closing her eye. She grimaced and then hissed with pain, forcing her face to relax. "Why does my head hurt so much," she whimpered almost inaudibly.
"You…don't remember?" Cullen asked slowly, sounding worried. She felt him shift behind her. He loosened his tight grip of her and she responded by taking a deep breath. "No," she wheezed. "I just remember the fight. But it's all vague."
"Well, your horse…"
"Latica," she cut him off.
"Yes, Latica," he said quietly and she could feel him nodding. "I told you the first day she wasn't suitable for you, but you just had to pick her, didn't you?"
"I'm headstrong," she replied, her lips curling up slightly.
"Good for you," he replied and sighed. He seemed reluctant to continue. "She…dragged you behind her. Your leg got stuck in the stirrings. You were lucky you freed yourself quickly enough." He could feel her tense in his arms. "Sera told us she provoked you and you wanted to climb down before you fell again. They chose this moment to strike. The arrow aimed at your head, but when you leaned closer to Latica to dismount, it hit her instead. She ran away and…" he trailed off.
He looked down when he felt her hand cover his, the one wrapped around her body to keep her upright. Her fingers closed around his hand tightly and her anxiety found its way to her voice. "And?" Anastasia breathed softly. "Have you found her?"
"Yes," Cullen replied quietly. He'd pulled off his gauntlets when he had pulled Anastasia's limp form up onto his horse with a help of his men, so he felt it when her hand begun shaking after he didn't add anything else.
It took her moment to relax against him, her grip on his hand loosening. She leaned back, resting her head on his shoulders again. She stared up at the darkening sky, her face blank, her right eye glassy. Left side of her face was bandaged, but there was a dark smudge soaking through already. They had cleaned the wound as best as they could and dressed it, but it surely needed more attention. Cullen didn't doubt she'd heal it once she felt better.
Cullen let out a long breath, once again thanking the Maker inwardly that he'd watched over her. She got really, really lucky. Cullen had seen men die this way and it wasn't a nice way to go. Silently, he wondered if she'd ever had the courage to ride again.
"Where did you get the scar?" she asked quietly, sounding choked up. She was very fond of her little, troublesome mare no matter how often she threw her from the saddle.
Only now he noticed her attention was fixed on his face, on his lips to be precise. She was eyeing the scar with wistful expression.
"It's a long story."
"It's so narrow and straight," she mumbled, reaching up to touch it. She stopped herself when her hand was a hair away from his face, dropping it to her lap. "A dagger. Or a point of a sword maybe?"
He cleared his throat. "It was a dagger. Your guess is correct, my lady," he nodded and focused on the path in front of them. Not that he needed it. Shemeeck knew the way and could follow it without his guidance. Soon they'd finish the climb and emerge on the plain he'd first seen her, just outside Skyhold. From there it was just a short journey across a long bridge and up a slight slope to the large gate.
It was a matter of one hour if they took their time, and he knew if he decided to take a nap in the saddle, he'd wake in the middle of Skyhold's courtyard. But he needed to escape her gaze.
He had offered to ride double with her, explaining his horse was used to a heavy weight and would have no problem in the parched, crumbly terrain of the mountains. In truth, he had begun liking her presence. She was silly, cheerful and naïve, but it was so appealing in this troubled time. At first, he though it stupid. Then interesting. Suddenly, the interest turned into attraction. With each day he spent on the road with her he felt this need to know more about her, to keep an eye on her, to make sure she was safe. In the Fade, he couldn't take his eyes off her. She was where she knew it best and she radiated such confidence it was difficult to focus on anything else.
And now…now he was afraid she'd see this all reflecting in his eyes if he looked at her now, from this up-close.
"My lady?" she echoed. "My lady, Inquisitor, Serah Trevelyan, mage… Why do you never use my name?"
"Trevelyan is your name," he opposed.
"My family name. One I have discarded since joining the mages at their magnificent Towers."
Cullen smiled hesitantly. "Very well, if it's your wish."
"It is," she replied in a whisper and they both fell silent. Wind got up as they climbed, howling and blowing against them as they begun crossing the plain. The sky was darkening slowly, but there was still plenty of light left. Though in a distance, Anastasia could see the small flickering lights floating in the air above Skyhold battlements. They were home.