Disclaimer: I don't own DA.
"Ho, careful there, girl!" A pair of large, strong hands caught her by her waist as she slipped off the horseback, easing her gently on the dry ground.
She rested her hands on his broad shoulders, weakly smiling as she tried to push back the dull pain pulsing over half of her face. Every sound hurt and with the chaos that had erupted with their arrival, it was difficult to concentrate on anything but the burning pain. Heavy boots thumped all around them, guards running to and fro. Soldiers and servants spoke one over another, turning the courtyard into a human beehive. Loud buzzing of their voices pressed Anastasia's ears uncomfortably, making her world sway even more violently, and she had problems registering all the people swarming the place, while they saw to the wounded first.
Blackwall touched her chin gently, tilting her head back as he examined the blood-soaked bandages. "Let's get you somewhere peaceful where you can heal yourself," he said and wrapped his arm around her waist, leading her away from the hustle.
"Cullen," she mumbled, turning around to get a glimpse of him. She wanted to tell him where she was going. She wanted to ask him about Vivienne or if she was needed again. She wanted to…talk to him. Just…to talk to him.
"Nah, little one," Blackwall shook his head, guiding her away from the courtyard. She was only barely aware of walking up the grand staircase leading to the great hall. "We'll need to whip you back to shape, first. If not healing, then I'll redress the wound. To infirmary with you."
"I could try healing," she replied drowsily, dragging her legs up yet another step. And another. There were thousands of them, piling up on and on. The wound seemed to sap her of energy substantially, and she could have felt it while crossing the last plain to Skyhold. The closer they had got, the more exhausted she had felt, lying limp in Cullen's gentle one-handed embrace as he guided Shemeeck to their goal. He'd been talking to her, making her reply. Each time she'd closed her eyes, he'd roused her up again. "Had to heal Viv, first. She was dying."
"Then you did a good job. Her injuries looked painful, but not life-threatening. But next time, heal yourself at least a little bit first. It's no use when a healer passes out," he murmured into her ear.
She was breathing heavily while Blackwall seemed to have no problem climbing up. Their progress was slow as he'd adopted her pace, allowing her to rest whenever she needed. She was glad he hadn't hoisted her up in his arms, for she wanted to show she was just as tough as the rest of them. Cullen was surely watching them.
"Latica is dead," she whispered when she caught her breath finally, moving on again, one step at a time. Thousands of them remained yet ahead, but she was determined not to give up.
"Latica? Oh, your horse. The spirited one," he mumbled. "I'm sorry to hear that. What happened?"
"She caught an arrow," she kept her voice down as if raising it a notch could drain her strength even more. "She ran scared and b-broke her leg on the terrain she didn't know well," she added, feeling tears welling up in her eyes once again. "She had to be so terrified."
"That's life. Bad things happen. Come, we're almost there. Just a few more steps," he urged her gently, helping her, supporting, but giving her all the time and space she needed. "What about the ambush?"
"Cassandra thought they were red templars," Ana replied slowly, stopping at the top of the stairs to catch her breath. "They thought we had lyrium. That doesn't make sense. We don't have red lyrium, just…blue. For the templars."
"Like fighting a horde of hellspawns isn't enough, we have to mindlessly butcher each other, too," Blackwall growled and then heaved a sigh. He slowly pushed the gate open and held it for her, gently pushing her in. She teetered a little without his support, but remained standing.
He closed the gate and they set off again. Ana closed her eyes, trusting his guidance, and let the sounds of their steps soothe her, the familiar scents welcome her home. She smelled dust and old books and fine leather. She took a deep breath and the smell of tapestries adorning the walls filled her nose, so did the polish servants used to clean the empty armour sets standing guard day and night. She smelled food as well, a mixture of sweet smells lingering after dinner, and she could hear her stomach demand its due loudly.
So did Blackwall. He chuckled shortly. "Glad to hear your appetite's not gone. Then your wound can't be so serious."
"I'm just scraped a little," she mumbled, leaning into him. "It's mostly the healing that knackered me so much," she added in a low voice. She could tell when they drew near the infirmary. It had its own characteristic aroma filling the corridors nearby.
She was infinitely glad when Blackwall sat her down onto a bed and begun unwrapping the bandages. She could hear people moving around her, but no one stopped to ask if they needed help, but she couldn't care less at the moment. The cloth had stuck to the wound and removing it made it bleed again and Anastasia bit down tightly, trying not to moan or hiss. Finally, he was done and she took a deep breath, opening her eyes finally.
Blackwall was examining the wound, leaned close to her but not touching, a frown wrinkling his forehead. He took in what she had called a little scrape, though he'd disagree definitely. Wisps of her hair had been torn out, the skin gone with it. Her cheekbone shone from the raw flesh before blood hid it away, and he was glad she hadn't had the opportunity to see herself. Quickly, he bunched up the bandages and patted her face dry as the blood begun tricking down her jaw.
"Let me," she mumbled and closed her eyes. The pulsing in her head made it difficult to focus as she reached into the Fade. She smiled thought, enjoying the whispering of her Spirit that accompanied her as long as she could remember, and it grew louder each time she touched the land of dreams. She could feel her influence, the way she helped her gather and channel mana, and the mage felt the pure, raw force whirling inside her, ready to be unleashed. The same force that could kill, reshaped, could heal and she could already feel the warmth spread through her face. She let out a long breath she didn't know she was holding.
Blackwall watched as the wound slowly scabbed and then begun closing right in front of his eyes. Her serene expression turned into a twisted grimace and she was shaking from the effort, her nostrils flared as she breathed through her nose quickly. She was deadly pale when she finally opened her eyes again, beads of sweat on her forehead and a distant look in those brown orbs. She closed them again, swallowing heavily. "How does it look?" she wheezed.
"Brand new," Blackwall replied, pushing her hair away to examine. The skin was healed properly and she didn't flinch away when he brushed his fingers against it. "Almost," he added, his eyes following the outline of where the wound use to be. Against her tan face, the pale scar shone brightly. And she still missed a portion of her hair, too.
Her eyes opened, searching his face. Then, she smiled sadly at him. "Why so grim?" she asked him, touching his cheek gently with cold fingers. "It's just a scar. You have plenty of those, too."
He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "God bless your cheerful heart, little one."
"Did you expect me to cry? I'm alive. I was shot at, dragged by a horse and nearly run through. But I'm still alive."
"First scars hurt the most," he opposed. "And you're very young."
She laughed at that. "I'm nearly thirty," she shook her head. "That hardly counts as very young."
Blackwall gave her a hesitant smile. "You'll talk differently when you get older."
She sighed, looking away from him. "I already feel that way sometimes. Like it wasn't months since the fateful meeting, but years. Many years."
"Life on the road isn't easy," Blackwall nodded. "It's mostly weary and dangerous and this tends to age you. But..." he paused until she met his eye, "there are benefits to it nonetheless."
"Such as?" she challenged him, giving him a narrowed look.
He just lifted his eyebrows and gave her a knowing look. "It was difficult to part with your knight at the courtyard, wasn't it?"
Something gentle and warm flashed in her eyes, and the most charming smile spread over her lips. Colour finally found its way to her face when she flushed a beautiful shade of red. "He's...not what I expected," she mumbled, dropping her eyes to her lap where she fiddled with her fingers.
He gave a hearty laugh again, patting her knee. "You don't have to explain yourself to me, Anastasia. This is just between him and you and no one else has the right to interfere."
"Experience talking?" she asked, but then suddenly regretted the question when his eyes changed. "I mean…" she hurried to add, "I must admit I'm…stranger to…all this."
"Love?"
She nodded, squeezing her hands between her thighs nervously. "Yes," she mumbled sheepishly. "I don't think I've ever…well, liked anyone. Let alone… " she shrugged. Then she chuckled at her own silliness and begun playing with her hair instead.
"No one in the Tower you fancied?"
"Not this way," Anastasia replied and took a deep breath. "We often found…comfort in each other. But it was nothing emotional or lasting. Nothing that would keep me up all night thinking about it over and over again." Her eyes grew distant. "Just a stolen moment of pretending we can be happy too."
"Well," Blackwall took a breath, "there's first time for everything. Do you feel well enough to walk or do you want me to get someone bring you food here?"
"Let's walk, please," she smiled at him and took his hand when he offered it, letting him pull her up. He was a very strong man and lifting her didn't pose a problem to him at all.
Even in its usually slumber pace Skyhold was teeming with people, now there seemed to be even more of them milling about. Not that they suddenly gained number, but with everyone getting ready as much as they could before the grand trip next day, it was easy to get fooled.
"Put that smile back on," Blackwall ordered gently, patting her back. "It's just a ball full of fancy, high and mighty and pompous…"
"I believe they'd say grandiloquent," Anastasia cut him off, chuckling. "But I get your meaning. It's not the masquerade, just the trip. I wanted to see the capital."
"I've seen it," Blackwall said gently, "and it's just as fancy, high and mighty and grandiloquent as its citizens. You've seen one Orlesian city, you've seen them all."
She touched his arm. "Thank you for trying to cheer me up, but this isn't necessary. I've already come to terms with it. And maybe I'm looking forward to those few weeks of doing nothing. At least the blisters from so many hours in a saddle will have time to heal," she joked. "And my hands too," she looked at her palms. There were red markings where she gripped the reins tightly, her skin sensitive and calloused.
First the smell of spicy broth and freshly baked bread welcomed them, making Anastasia's stomach grumble dissatisfiedly. She touched her stomach, inwardly promising to feed it soon as possible. As they drew even closer, they could hear a merry laughter. The sound guided their way, punctuated only by short pauses of initially unintelligible words. The first she could understand clearly belonged to the very man they'd just talked about. Cullen sounded rather defensive. "No. That wasn't how I said it."
"That definitely was!" an unfamiliar voice replied, laughter and amusement dripping with every word. "And how you avoided my eyes saying it. By the Maker! Cutest templar of all Kirkwall. And probably the only one who hadn't visited those…ladies. Aren't first impressions great?"
"You forgot his blush," Varric replied matter-of-factly.
Another burst of laughter just as they stepped into the door. A wave of warm air hit them from the hot ovens, carrying a scent of wine in it.
Leliana and Cassandra were both laughing, sitting behind a small but sturdy wooden table. Cassandra was still in the armour and Varric hadn't changed either, while Leliana seemed to be in much lighter garment; a linen shirt buttoned only half-way up with silver thread embroidery on its long, loose sleeves, and black leggings tugged in high boots. A leather belt was wrapped loosely around her hips and Anastasia could see a small dagger on it, too.
Another person stood with his back to the door, and Cullen hadn't had the time put on something more comfortable. He not only carried his armour, but his arms as well, and the steel glistened in the dim dancing light of candles merrily; a contrast to the man's gloomy mood.
The last was someone Anastasia had never seen. A tall, slim woman with short hair sticking into all directions like hedgehog's spines. Her eyes were of a deep blue colour and full of mischievous sparks. She was dressed in a comfortable jerkin of black colour with a white shirt under it, and leather breeches and boots fit for riding. She was holding a mug and from the flush of her cheeks it was obvious she'd been drinking for some time already. "Yeah, the blush…seeing it creeping up his cheeks and neck, it was love at first…" she fell silent when she noticed the two newcomers. "Hey," she offered the two of them a broad smile. She gestured to them with the mug, spilling some of its content on the floor with her clumsy movements. "Come in, the more, the merrier!"
"I believe you're already merry enough, Kaileena," Cullen said firmly.
She winked at him. "Not. Yet. If you catch my meaning, chantry boy. Oh, why aren't you blushing now. Eh…wait, that was Sebastian…" she waved her hand, dismissing his cold stare, and turned to the door. She put the mug on the table with a loud thud. "You I remember. The Warden. Blackwall," she smiled and Blackwall nodded once, both a confirmation and greetings. "But I believe I haven't been acquainted with our pretty friend here, yet. How rude of someone," she shot a wannabe reproachful look over her shoulder, extending her hand towards Anastasia. "Kaileena, but people call me Hawke. It's shorter, I guess," she shrugged, her eyes regarding the fresh scar and her hairline for a fleeting moment. She didn't comment it however.
Dumbfounded, Ana accepted her hand and was surprised at the other woman's strong grip. "Anastasia…" she mumbled.
"Oh, so you're the one I'm supposed to keep an eye on while the rest of this lot is off having fun?" she pointed at the three advisors. Leliana was smiling broadly, Cassandra had a mild look of adoration in her eyes, while Cullen was frowning for some reason, his arms crossed over his chest.
"What?" Ana chimed weakly, her eyes searching for any kind of explanation.
"She's going to help you run Skyhold while we're gone," Cassandra explained. Hawke's mug had somehow found its way into her hand and she took a swing from it.
Everyone was silent for a moment, staring at Ana. Even Cullen raised his eyebrows at that. And then, Hawke started laughing. "And you said Cassandra didn't have sense of humour, Varric," she admonished him, turning back to Ana. "Nah. I'm just passing through. I'm staying only for a couple of days."
"And we have Josephine for running Skyhold in our absence, don't worry," Leliana added with a broad smile.
"Thank the Maker," Anastasia mumbled.
Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed the update. And...meet my Hawke, a menace of Kirkwall everyone in the game, though I don't know why, began to look up to. Almost, heh.