So I have been rereading Elizabeth Haydon's Symphony of Ages and one of her scenes inspired this plot-bunny. I highly recommend the series for those of you who are unfamiliar with it. I also incorporated some flavors from the city elf origin in DA:O, of which I think adequately portrays the backward nature in how the humans treat elves.
This is a rather dark few chapters. Fair warning. It's not quite Watchmen-esque, but…yea…
I imagine this might be a sort of AU prologue to the human-elf war that we know is coming once Solas begins his vengeance. Go, baby, go!
This before the very last return to Skyhold before Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts, a least a few months after Here Lies the Abyss.
Atrocities Part I
They had spent an rather enjoyable morning shopping in Val Chevin, Arya giving her companions the day off in order to enjoy themselves and see the city while Varric and Sera searched for the Nightingale's contact, a man named Reynauld, who was currently in hiding. He had refused to elaborate his situation by raven, only elucidating that he had information regarding Corypheus. Leliana had asked them by raven to collect him, as they were in Val Royeaux at the time, following the man that they called Blackwall. A boat would be arriving for them within the week to ferry them across the Waking Sea to Halamshiral, where they would provide an armed escort for the man as they returned along the Imperial Highway to Skyhold.
She had thought for great length about whether or not her journey into the city proper was wise, unwilling to reveal her presence for some want of anonymity. But she wanted to have a day to spend with Solas, and this would be their first chance to have a conventional date, and she was curious in how it would play out.
She had asked Solas to try to cover her blood markings with colored powders or magic, but the vallaslin rejected them both. Sighing, she had conceded that she would walk cowled at Solas's side, her face hidden by the hood of her cloak. As they were preparing to leave, she frowned at the elf's bald head.
"You know, Solas…you rather…stand out." he looked at her and she gestured to his head. His face darkened at her implication.
"And what would you suggest I do about it…if I were to consent to such nonsense?" he asked cautiously.
"YES!" they heard Varric call, laughing. "Give Chuckles a wig!" he then roared with laughter as Solas scowled at him.
"No." refused Solas, his blue eyes flinty.
"Solas…" Arya begged. "I can't even show my face. We're trying to blend in as much as possible, and you as an elf will be strange enough without me walking beside you, being all mysterious and hidden."
"People will be able to follow you easily," agreed Varric seriously. "I mean…they would just follow the shine of the sun off your noggin." Varric sniggered as Solas glared at him.
Iron Bull had watched the exchange in silence, thoughtful, then rummaged in his pack, producing a black, curly wig. The three friends stared at him in amazement. Iron Bull shrugged.
"What? I'm a spy. I have spy shit."
Arya could only stare. "How would a wig help you blend in?" she gestured to his enormous physique, grinning at the mental image.
"Helps me get into character," to which Varric and Arya both roared with laughter.
It took much cajoling and pleading to get Solas to put on the wig, which he did after about ten minutes. He stood back as the elf, Qunari, and dwarf all surveyed the image of him with hair, trying desperately to not laugh as he scowled at them under his beautiful black curls. Arya had to admit that she almost liked him with hair.
Almost.
The tips of his pointed ears would still be visible, but it would help passerby by from noticing too much. His bald head make his pointed ears all the more conspicuous.
They had succeeded not laughing admirably until Sera emerged from the dingy house in which they were staying. She took one look at Solas before she fell to the ground laughing, clutching her belly as she rolled back and forth. Solas scowled and removed his wig irritably.
"Sera….stop!" Arya said, holding her hand over her mouth to hide her own laugh.
"But he's…he's..." they never knew what he was as she couldn't stop laughing enough to say it, tears streaming down her face she kicked the ground in her mirth.
"Come on, Solas." Arya took his arm and led him from the group, stopping to grab the wig he threw at Iron Bull. She mouthed a "thank you" to the Qunari before running after her love.
When they made it a short distance, Arya stopped him and turned him to face her. He was still scowling, but his eyes softened when they met hers. She held out the offensive garment and the scowled returned. He hadn't taken the wig from her hands.
"Please, Solas. You know it's for the best. Let your pride falter for just this one day?" She knew she'd won in how he sighed heavily.
"It's itchy." He complained is such a childish voice that Arya laughed, but stopped when he glared at her.
"Solas…I'm going to be hot in this. You don't look bad with it on, really, you look good with it. It sets off the blue of your eyes nicely. We were just laughing cause it's…different." She said sincerely. She held his gaze and his hand snatched out to grab the wig before putting it on his head roughly.
She adjusted it for him and stepped back to survey her handiwork. He really did look good in it, were he to stop scowling. She smiled and stood on her toes to kiss him.
"Ma serannas, emma'lath." He nodded without reply, but took her hand and they walked in the direction of the city.
She enjoyed the morning as she watched the shopkeepers peddle their wares, having Solas be her face, buying some spices for her cooks at Skyhold and specialty paper and a new pen for Josephine. The shopkeepers eyed him warily, some with open disdain, eyes inevitably staring at his ears. A few even refused to sell to them. To the few shopkeepers who were friendly to him, Arya paid them much more for their wares than was necessary, thoroughly enjoying the looks of loathing their fellow shopkeepers shot the vendors as they gratefully bowed their thanks. She had more than enough money and anything she could ever want would be bought for her by the Inquisition, so she enjoyed sharing her wealth.
"Could you recommend a friendly establishment where we might have lunch?" Solas asked an apothecary after they paid for some new potion recipes. They saw her eyes flick to his ears as she caught their meaning in that he wished to have an unharried lunch. She looked to Arya's hidden face before meeting his gaze again.
"Somewhere private." He added, and watched the woman consider.
She gave them some directions to a tavern a few streets over from the main market square.
As they turned down a side street from the market, Solas spoke. "That…might not have been wise, vhenan." He murmured to her as they left the main market square, referring to her generous distribution of wealth to elf-friends.
She shrugged. "I'm not going to apologize for rewarding decency."
"The shopkeepers might take it upon themselves to haze those that you overpaid." She pursed her lips, having not thought about that.
"Well…what's done is done." She said, sadly. "We can only hope that those with empty pockets learned their lesson about tolerance." He took her hand as they continued walking, eyes wandering to the run down shops that flanked them to either side.
"It's amazing that these buildings are in such disrepair, yet so close to the city's main market." commented Arya, gesturing to a dilapidated shop, blackened by fire. There was a small group of dirty human children playing a game in the house's gravel lawn with a leather ball, kicking it to each other and laughing, but they halted when they saw the pair. There was a whispered exchange between them and then they ran, the largest grabbing their dirty ball as he fled. Solas and Arya watched as they ran down the direction in which they came.
"Cassandra says that the Lord here is particularly stringent with his taxes in attempt to keep his people in deliberate poverty."
"That's horrible!" cried Arya in outrage.
"It discourages revolt." Solas grimaced. "Why would your subjects bother to arm themselves when they can barely afford the bread to feed their families?" Arya's eyes travelled in the direction that the dirty street children, realizing how their clothes hung loosely on their bodies, flapping against them as they ran.
"Ouch!" Solas cried has he withdrew his hand, shaking it as looked at her reproachfully. She realized her fist had clenched into a ball, the fingernails digging into the flesh of her palm. She laughed apologetically, stretching out her hands and flexing the fingers to loosen them.
"I am sorry, ma'arlath," she said through her smile before taking his hand again.
They walked in silence for a while, trying to ignore the scandalous whispers they received from the shopkeepers and passersby that sparsely peppered the side streets in which they walked.
The eventual found the grubby pub, the Iron Flask Inn, eyeing it dubiously as they approached, but walked in, the bell on the door tinkling to announce their arrival. The taproom's atmosphere was pleasant and warm, lit with numerous candles that ran along the length of the wall and from a large iron ring that was suspended from the ceiling. Arya was surprised – it was scrubbed clean and the bar's few patrons were laughing. There was no bard, as it was too early in the day.
Solas inclined his head politely as the patrons turned in their barstools to survey the newcomers, and they waved in greeting and turned back around, much to both of the elves' surprise.
Solas picked his table strategically so that he could be facing the door, Arya watching the bar. They were out of the peripheral view of the men at the bar, so if they were watched, Arya would be able to notice the shift in their seats. She still not dare lower her hood.
"Well, that was the nicest welcome we've gotten all day." Arya said quietly, pleased.
"I was rather surprised, myself. I imagine they see few elves." he stopped as they were approached by a young tavern wench, her brown her pulled neatly in a bun. She smiled broadly at them.
"Good afternoon, sir…" she greeted Solas, "And ummm….miss." Arya nodded through her hood as the woman guessed. She smiled, pleased with herself.
"What can I get for you? We've got some bread baked fresh yesterday morning and a shepherd's pie I made myself this morning." The last words were said with a hint of pride. Solas smiled.
"Well then," she was surprised to hear Solas speak in the Fereldan dialect, and had to hide a giggle, thankful for the shelter of her cowl.
"We shall both have some of your shepherd's pie, miss, with a nice thick slice 'o bread each." He threw her his most charming smile and the girl blushed. Arya had to beat back jealousy.
"And be a good girl and bring me a pint of ale, would you? My friend will have some water and a glass of wine." The girl nodded meekly through her shy smile before bustling away.
"What was that all about?" she glowered, sullen, her voice quiet.
"Blending in." he said smugly, and she knew he was repaying her for her insisting on his wig.
"Here you go." The wench had returned with their drinks, setting them down on the table, making sure she bent down in front of Solas slyly so that he got a good view of her ample cleavage.
"Thanks, pretty." Solas threw that charming smile at her again and winked. She giggled as she ran into the backroom for their food.
"I'm not sure if we should be drinking." She said dubiously, ignoring his flirtations. He shrugged and took a long draft from his mug. He sighed his pleasure.
"Arya…we are in a tavern. It will look strange if we don't engage in all of their services. One will not hurt. Besides…" he waggled his eyebrows. "How can I flirt with that waitress otherwise? She has nice….features." he chuckled as she scowled.
"I hate you."
"Nah you don't, love." He responded in his Fereldan accent and Arya giggled.
The girl returned with their food and set the steaming plates in front of them with a smile. She glowered as one of the bar patrons called her over just then, but nodded politely to them before bustling away.
The food was plain, but excellent, and Arya devoured her meal quickly, sopping up the last of the meat pie's gravy with the thick slice of bread. As she pushed her plate away with a satisfied sigh, Solas grinned at her. She sat back with her glass of wine and watched him eat, smirking at his newfound black curls.
"You know…" she said, "Those men are the bar have completely ignored us the entire time we have been sitting here. There was only one fellow who looked at us, and it was when the waitress came to give us our orders. From the way he watches her, I imagine it's only because he's sweet on her."
Solas nodded, having finished his meal. They sat in silence, enjoying their full and warm bellies as they finished their spirits. They then stood to leave, Solas leaving a large coin on the table that more than paid for their meals. The waitress approached them then, seeming sad that they were leaving.
"You were right, m'dear. It was delicious. We thank you." He said in his Fereldan. He clasped both of her hands and kissed them before winking at her and following Arya out of the door.
"I hope that gesture was to give her coins that her boss wouldn't see." Arya warned as they left the pub. Solas chuckled, taking her own hand and kissing it.
"Why, of course." He consoled "Shall we head back?" Arya looked at the sun, considering.
"Let's give Sera and Varric more time. Can we go see the Chantry?" He raised an eyebrow at her.
"What?"
"Nothing. Let us go." He said, amused.
He asked a guard for directions, who gave him a once over before roughly pointing in a direction with some gruff and vague directions. Solas thanked him and gave him a coin before they walked off.
Before they turned down a side street, Solas stopped. She laughed at his excitement when he pointed out an Enchanter's shop, its clean, whitewashed exterior an anomaly amongst the grimy shops and homes that surrounded it. Grinning, they all but ran to the shop, surprised that such a place existed in the conservative city, let alone so far removed from the wealth of the market.
She consented to let him wander the shelves, her own eyes wandering as she meandered her way to the front of the shop where they kept the more expensive specialty items and trinkets on purple velvet in a clean glass case. She admired the baubles, conceding that she could treat herself to a new piece for her staff, noting a large collection of rings meant to stabilize the staff's head to its shaft.
The Tranquil at the counter greeted her in his monotone voice, informing her that if she wanted to see his wares more closely, he could remove them from the case for her to inspect. She quieted her momentary rage at the sun emblazoned on his forehead as she looked up to thank him, gratified that the hood concealed her face for the second time that day.
She glanced over her shoulder to see Solas inspecting a large collection of dried herbs on layered shelves, looking pleased at the selection as he picked up a jar. There were no other patrons in the store, but she was still worried about the guard who sat in the corner behind the counter, apparently disinterested in her or anything besides sharpening his dagger.
The astute Tranquil must have seen her gaze around the shop and how she stiffened when she noticed the guard. Determined to make a sale, he turned to his guard and told him to run to the market to pick up some parchment. The guard sheathed the dagger he had been polishing and left obediently without even glancing at them.
"You do not have to worry about his discretion, friend." He told her in his monotone voice "Nor mine. Many of my clientele are private people, and my confidence comes without a price. I would lose precious business otherwise."
"Isn't that dangerous? You have no idea who I am. I could be here to kill you." she wondered, genuinely curious. If Tranquil were capable of shrugging, this one did so with an almost imperceptible raise of a single shoulder.
"Any person who wished me genuine harm would not be dissuaded by one guard." He admitted. "Now…is there a piece that you would like to see?" he gestured to the glass case.
Reminded, she pointed to a metal ring, trying hard to contain her excitement. He covered his hands with a kerchief, picked up the trinket gingerly, and extended his hand to her.
The silver charm depicted a pair of frolicking wolves surrounded by artfully twisting leafy vines, its edges trimmed with white fur. The craftsmanship was extraordinary, and there were even tiny emeralds for the wolves' eyes, which flickered in the candlelight of the shop. She fell in love with it instantly, awed as wondering hands turned it over in her palms, admiring.
She felt warmth at behind her as Solas placed a hand in the small of her back and looked over her shoulder at her prize. He had placed several books on the counter along with a small collection of herbs in jars as she held it up proudly for his inspection.
"Wolves? Shouldn't stags be wary of wolves?" he teased, referencing her clan's sigil. Pleased that he remembered this, she shrugged and placed the piece in his outstretched palm.
"I have never understood the human's vilification of wolves: they are the most magnificent and intelligent of predators." She threw a glance at the Tranquil, deciding that she would trust his discretion. "Their social structure reminds me a lot of the Dalish, actually, the way they hunt in packs and fiercely protect their own. Packs are family." She saw him smile as she extended her hand to him.
She took the bangle from him and turned it over in her hands, having to suppress a giggle of delight with her find.
"One particularly rough winter, my clan spent most of it huddled in a valley that belonged to an ancient wolf pack. They kept to themselves, never showing more than an almost…polite curiosity unless we strayed too close to their den." She ran her appreciative fingers along the polished metal.
"This fur reminds me of a particular wolf. Did you know that wolves mate for life?" He shook his head, feigning ignorance. She nodded, and turned back to examine her prize.
"One of the older males died, and his mate refused to go out and hunt, or to even eat what the others brought back for her. She even refused the cooked meat I offered. Toward the end, she let me approach her until, eventually, I could pet her head and scratch her ears. Her fur was so, so soft. She licked my hand." She smiled at the memory.
"I sensed…an incalculable sadness in her, one that would be impossible to heal. It's like…she lost the will to live. She just lay down next to her mate and stayed there until she died. I was with her when she passed." she said sadly.
"I made a funeral pyre for them both and asked Fen'Harel to look out for them as they were carried off by the wind. My clanmates were furious I hadn't taken their pelts, for wolf fur is soft and warm and she was so, so beautiful…but…I just couldn't defile their bodies that way. It felt wrong. Keeper Marelli had also agreed, so I knew that I had made the right choice." she fell silent then, contemplating.
"Pay the man. Well." She ordered, her manner changing abruptly, oblivious to the softness of his eyes as he looked at her with wonder. He smirked at the command and pulled enough coins from his purse to cover her trinket and his book and herbs, with a generous tip.
"Thank you, sir." Solas nodded politely to the shopkeeper. The Tranquil bowed his head in his thanks. "I wish you luck. Tell your friends about this place."
She waited for Solas outside of the shop, having tucked the bangle into the pouch at her belt.
"Do you think that he could be convinced to join the Inquisition?" asked Arya as they resumed their trek to the Chantry.
"Possibly. His shop was quite impressive. I am sure he would be a worthy asset. And I sense that you also fear for his safety." Solas replied.
"Yes. We could give him a place where he could conduct his creations safely. I should ask Cassandra about it." She mused, then added, "There's something…wrong with this city. I can't quite place my finger on it."
"I also sense something, as well." His voice was quiet. "But I am not sure what."
The passed through many more shabby streets before the cobblestones emptied in a wide circle that thrummed with people. The Chantry stood before them, at the top of a rise of numerous stone steps upon which many people walked or sat.
Arya felt herself shrink away from the crowd of people, moving at the buildings' periphery as they made their way to the Chantry. Even at its edge, they were swallowed by the crowd of people of the square and Arya felt alarm growing in her heart from their collective nearness.
After navigating through the throng, they made it to the base of the stone steps. There was a large sign flanked by a priest whose arms were outstretched as he vocalized grandly. She examined this man with interest - she thought all Andrastian clergymen were female. The sign had numerous pieces of parchment posted to the wood in varying scripts.
"This is a Chanter's Board, with its Chanter." Solas told her, and Arya returned her gaze to the man.
"A Chanter?" asked Arya. The man that stood next to the board noticed the cloaked figure watching him. He turned to her and boomed,
"All men are the work of our Maker's Hands, from the lowest slaves to the highest kings…those who bring harm without provocation to the least of His children are hated and cursed by the Maker!" he cried, his hands outstretched.
Arya was taken aback, unnerved at his proclamation.
"They are sworn to only recite the Chant of Light, a piece of oratory created by Andraste herself." Solas elaborated as the man turned his gaze to him.
"Hmph." Arya grunted noncommitingly.
"The Chanter's board is a place where those in need can place their requests." Solas continued and she turned to survey the board, ignoring the Chanter.
She looked over the sheets of parchment that were fighting to be seen, layers upon layers of paper that obliterated the wood backing from view. There was a request for silks, a noble asking for help locating her lover's ship lost at sea…need for some elfroot…the list went on.
"So…those that need help place their request here?" she asked.
"Yes. It's crude, but I hear it's effective in certain cities."
"Haven didn't have one."
"Haven's circumstances were…different," Solas began, but was interrupted by the Chanter.
"The one who repents," he cried, causing Arya to jump back, annoyed. "Who has faith, unshaken by the darkness of the world, she shall know true peace!" the Chanter shouted. She glared at him, wishing he would shut up.
She looked to the cobbled stones, noting that a few of the notices had fallen to the muddy ground. As she bent to pick up a soggy sheet of parchment, she heard commotion at the top of the Chantry steps and looked up, concerned. They were too far away to make out words, but Arya stood and watched from the foot of the enormous stone steps.
There was a loud and angry conversation between an elderly woman dressed in Chantry robes and a small, young woman in a shabby dress, who was pleading, gesticulating wildly as she begged and blubbered. The ruckus was drawing a crowd, the crowd of people stopping their business to stand in a wide circle around the pair. Arya watched as the woman fell to her knees and crawled before the priestess before placing her forehead on the hem of her robes. The women kicked at her in disgust, gesturing to a pair of Templars that guarded the Chantry's doors before turning and entering the building without a glance back at the groveling, wailing woman.
As the Templars approached the sobbing woman, she backed away frantically and stood to descend the steps in a rush, the crowd parting way for her as she fled, watching her. And the very bottom of the stairs, she tripped and stumbled, falling into a puddle which soaked her in dirty brown water. The crowd laughed derisively and resumed their affairs, apparently unconcerned.
Fury rose in Arya's heart and she walked the few paces to reach her as she huddled in the water, trembling. The woman recoiled from her outstretched hand as a dog would recoil from a master's angry hand, her eyes downcast as she trembled in fear.
"It's alright." She said quietly, encouraging. The woman didn't respond, but shied away from her further. Passersby stared at them, which Arya ignored.
"Please. I won't hurt you. I want to help." She layered her voice with sincerity, her aura tuned to the agony and shame that emanated from this woman. She had rarely felt such utter despair, and found she had to fight back tears in sympathy, her hand trembling as it remained outstretched.
Eventually, the woman reached out and took Arya's hand. As she tried to stand, she yelped and fell back into the puddle, clutching at her ankle.
"Are you hurt?" she asked the woman, alarmed.
"I…I think I sprained my ankle. I can't stand." She whimpered, her mouth quivering.
Solas came and knelt beside her.
"May I take a look?" She looked at him fearfully, then her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in surprise.
"You're…you're an elf." She said, voice wondered, and Arya felt the woman's defenses lower. Her eyes shifted between the two of them, and she was forcibly reminded that she remained cowled, a potentially sinister figure to this frightened and mortified woman.
"Yes." Solas replied. "May I look at your ankle?" She nodded then. Arya examined the woman more closely as Solas touched her ankle through the dirty water, probing with his magic as subtley as he was able. She was a small woman, her eyes a dark blue, her face angular. Her short black hair would be lustrous were it not dirty and unwashed. Her smallness and angularity suggested she was a city elf, her forehead bare.
Her suspicions were confirmed as the woman ran her fingers through her hair in her pain, briefly showing pointed ears.
"There is a slight fracture in one of your ankle bones, and you have also sprained it." Solas said, his voice academic as he assessed her. "We are starting to draw attention," he then said in a hushed voice. "Will you let me carry you?"
The woman hesitated. "I don't…I will get you all dirty." She said with a blush, ashamed, indicating the muddy puddle in which she lay.
"It matters not. They are only clothes." She considered, then nodded, holding out her arms to him. Solas took off his pack and handed it to Arya before he gathered her up carefully and stood. Arya adjusted the pack onto her back and they retreated in the direction that they came, well aware of the eyes upon them. As they left the commotion of the square, she felt her heart swelling with pride at the chivalry of her mate.
They had travelled a few streets in a hurried silence until they were sure they were not being followed, stopping in front of an old abandoned house. Arya looked around to ensure that they were alone before she kicked the door open and went inside to scout. She emerged into a kitchen, worn from disuse. The house was old, judging from the thick layer of dust that coated every surface. She kept magic ready in case of ambush as she explored, though she was certain that they were alone. The next room she entered was a living room, of which a dusty couch lay in front of a crumbling hearth. She returned to Solas.
"There's a couch in here we could lay her on. Come." Solas followed her and carefully lay the woman down onto the couch before holding out his hand to Arya. She took off his pack and handed it to him.
"What's your name?" asked Arya as Solas rifled through his pack for his healing supplies.
The woman looked at them, unsure.
"What…what do you want with me?" she asked, slightly fearful.
"To help." Said Arya simply, unable to come up with more adequate words.
"Why? Why help me? I'm nothing to you." Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"If you were nothing to us, we would've left you in that puddle." responded Arya as Solas withdrew some bandaging cloth from his pack. He stomped on a cracked floorboard, breaking it and wrenching a piece of wood free.
"Why would you care about an elf?" she asked, her eyes on Solas as he approached her, kneeling by her foot.
"May I bandage your ankle?" Solas asked. "If we don't brace it soon, there will be a good chance you won't be able to walk on it again anytime soon."
She looked at him, unsure, but eventually nodded.
"Arya, I'm going to set the ankle. Will you tie this along the outside of her ankle? We need to prevent her foot from rolling inward." Arya took the offered cloths and makeshift brace, nodding her readiness.
"This will hurt, alright?" he told the woman, who nodded, her fingertips gripping the dusty couch. Solas grasped her forefoot and pulled, twisting slightly. The woman yelped in pain as Arya quickly bound the splint on her ankle.
"Leave that last bandage for me – it has to be tied a specific way." said Solas, so Arya left him to it and sat on the floor by the woman's head.
"He called you Arya…are you an elf, too?", her eyes intense and watering from the pain. Arya thought about it, deciding that this woman was harmless and she would do no harm by revealing herself. She raised her hands to her hood, hesitated, then lowered her hood from her face. The woman's eyes widened as she looked at Arya, her eyes drawn to her vallaslin and her ears.
"We're helping you because we cannot tolerate injustice," Arya said, letting her hands fall. She ignored Solas's disapproving gaze.
"You're both elves." she said with awe. "Them marks….are you one of those Dalish elves we've heard about?" she asked.
"Yes. Have you never seen a Dalish before?" the woman shook her head.
"Hahren Roran told us about your people, but I've never seen any elves outside our alienage before." She said, unable to take her eyes from Arya, wincing as Solas tied off the bandage and came to sit next to Arya.
"What's your name?" Arya asked again, taking the woman's hand, holding her gaze. She looked down, her black hair falling forward and obscuring her blue eyes.
"Ellya." She answered, shy.
"What were you doing at the Chantry, Ellya? Why did they treat you that way?"
Ellya's eyes remained downcast, ashamed. "They treat us elves all like that, mum. We're elves. It's what we deserve. We don't deserve no Maker." She said, sad.
"So you knew they would react that way? Why did you go, then?" Arya asked gently. Solas had remained silent. Ellya remained silent.
"Ellya…please tell us." Arya appealed.
"How do I know this isn't some type of trick?" her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"You don't." said Arya simply. "You just have to trust me." Arya watched her, hopeful. Her intense blue eyes moved between the two of them, deciding.
"I…I was looking for my son." She bit her lower lip, her eyes filling.
"Your son? Was he at the Chantry?"
"No…he's…he's…" the lip began to quiver under her teeth. "He's GONE! I can't find him! He's been missing for days!" the elf wailed and Arya's heart went out to her. She raised herself onto her knees and hugged the sobbing woman, letting her cry into her shoulder.
"Why did you think that he would be in the Chantry?" asked Arya gently, rubbing her back encouragingly.
"I didn't really." The woman sniffed and pulled back, wiping her nose on her dirty sleeve. Solas offered her his handkerchief, and she shot him a grateful look before wiping her face. "I just…I just didn't know who else to ask for help. The guards won't help me. They don't care about us elves. It's just like Mannie said."
"Mannie?" asked Arya, confused. Ellya nodded.
"Mannie is my friend, our baker. Her daughter is missing, too. When she went to the guards, they kicked at her and laughed and told her to crawl back down the hole she came from. As they did with me." Arya gritted her teeth, effectively holding her temper.
"I was desperate…I didn't know what else to do…my poor little Ronnie!" She wailed, throwing her arms around Arya. Arya and Solas exchanged a grim look over the black hair.
"Both of your children are missing?" the woman nodded into her shoulder.
"There's been children ending up missing for the past two weeks. They just vanish."
"Vanish?"
Ellya went on to explain that for the past few weeks, elven parents would awaken to find their children's beds empty, the child gone without a trace and none of the authorities would help them. They questioned her for a while longer, but her obvious distress cut in the interview short, Arya unwilling to add to her distress, and they were now working against the setting sun.
Realizing that she would be unable to reach the alienage herself, Arya and Solas helped her to her feet. She could bear her weight slightly on the leg and the three of them hobbled down the vacant streets.
"Ellya!" a man's cry of relief sounded through one of the alleys and Arya turned to the source. Three male elves approached them, the red haired one the center crying her name again. "Ellya!"
"Byron!" Ellya called, relaxing. The red-haired elf in the middle sprinted towards them. Solas caught Ellya's arm as she stumbled when she released her hold from him, attempting to run to the man. The man swiftly caught up to him and enveloped her in his arms.
"Thank you! Thank you for helping her! I was so worried!" Byron said gratefully to them, shaking Solas's hand with his free one, the other holding Ellya close to him.
When they broke apart, the other two elves had caught up to them.
"Byron is my husband." Ellya explained to her rescuers, her face adoring as she looked at the elf.
"Did the Chantry agree to help?" Byron asked her, his face hopeful. She shook her head and his face fell. "Yea…I guess that's what we expected."
Arya looked at the setting sun uneasily. They needed to leave then or the gates to the city would close and they'd be trapped inside for the night.
"See that she gets home safe, alright?" Arya said as they turned to leave.
"Wait! Can't you help us?" he pleaded, grasping her arm. "I assumed she mentioned our plight." Arya looked back to him, weighing her words as she met his desperate eyes before she looked back at the sun.
"We have to leave now, but we will be back tomorrow. I promise you, we will come to the alienage." She said cautiously, wanting to provide more comfort than that.
"May I at least have your name?" Byron said as they turned to leave again. She looked at Solas, who shook his head and she sighed. She turned back to the man, who was frowning when she met his gaze through her hood.
"I am sorry, but our names would be dangerous to give to you at this time." His face darkened.
"You have to trust us." She continued. "We will return tomorrow, you have my word." She said.
"It's alright, Byron. They're okay." His wife consoled him. The man nodded and turned from them only then, his arm supporting her as one of his friends came under her other shoulder.
They watched the elves hobble away for only a moment before Solas grabbed her hand and they ran for the gates, Arya needing to clasp her hand to her head to trap the fabric so that it would cover her face in their flight. They slowed to a walk only as they approached the main square, not wanting to draw attention to themselves anymore than they had already.
The barely made it before the gates before they slammed shut behind them. They dare not look back as they walked down the empty road as carelessly as they could manage, walking the last mile in silence.
When they made it back to camp, Cassandra and Cole were on watch, sitting next to each other on the stone wall that circled the abandoned village. When she caught sight of them, she let her body slide off of the wall upon while Cole watched them under his hat.
"We were worried you wouldn't make it back in time." She said, relieved as she approached. "Are Varric and Sera not with you?"
"No…they haven't returned?" Arya asked, worried.
"No…I was hoping that they had found you." Her face was bleak.
"Cole…could you keep watch?" the Seeker asked him. His hat nodded.
"Thank you."
They hadn't gone more than ten steps before they heard his voice.
"They are people approaching. They carry something…evil. It speaks of suffering…sad, sadistic as it sings its sorrow." His voice was frightened, and Cassandra drew her sword, approaching him, alarmed at his tone.
To their surprise, Varric and Sera came into view, slightly out of breath as the trotted towards them.
"How'd you guys get out of the gates?" Arya asked, curious, for they had been the last ones to leave as the gates and there had been no others on the road.
Varric smirked. "Gates? Who uses gates nowadays?" Arya rolled her eyes and the dwarf laughed. Sera was unimpressed, her face set in a grimace. She walked right past them, muttering something about the "old fucker being downright barkin' mad" and "ugly shite floating around in fuckin' jars" before shaking her head and stomping to the house.
Arya cocked an eyebrow and turned to Varric, who she knew would actually provide some useful information. She was disconcerted by his grimace, and then by his request that they go inside the house to discuss the day's events - the dwarf rarely requested privacy.
The entered the main room of the house where most of their party sat around a small campfire. Cassandra rummaged in their food pack and handed them each some dried jerky and a lump of cheese.
Arya and Solas sat next to Varric, and all three of them sat chewing their simple food, not speaking. Their meal was punctuated with the regular thumps of a dagger striking wood – Sera was practicing her aim against the side of the house. Arya respectfully waited for Varric to finish before she asked for his report.
The dwarf inhaled deeply before he began.
"Sunshine has a point in that this guy was crazy. And I mean, crazy crazy – and that's seriously saying something coming from me. Big, wild grey hair and the like…" Arya found her curiosity piqued, if mirrored by trepidation.
"Well...what did he say? It must've been important. Leliana's note was…vague and urgent. She usually would give us much more to go on."
"I mean…I'm sure she would've given us more if she had any more to give cause this guy didn't tell me shit. Refused to even believe we were who were said we were. I mean, I understand his caution, but he seemed to be nothing more than a crotchety old fool musing in his experiments doing…god knows what." Varric said.
"Then we came all this way for nothing?" Arya asked, her face crestfallen.
"Not…quite. He refused to talk to me. He insisted on speaking to you in person. When I told him we needed a little more to go on, he gave me this, saying that it would convince you the severity of the situation."
Varric reached into his jacket pocket and produced a trinket that appeared to be a carving made of a dark wood, amorphous. As he offered it to Arya, Solas hurriedly snatched up the artifact, which startled her: his motions were intense, his arm snapping out to clutch the proffered token. The hedge mage examined the piece of wood, weighing it between his hands before holding it up to the light of the campfire.
"This is a piece of a vhenadahl." He said curiously "…a heart tree that resides in the center of most elven alienages. There's…." he frowned, turning the small wooden piece over in his hands before his eyes. "That's…strange."
"What?" asked Arya, curious and slightly apprehensive by the mage's frown.
"It's been corrupted. It seems it is a foci for…." he paused, then looked at her, eyes hardened.
"Blood magic." He finished. "Powerful and…sinister blood magic." He finished grimly.
Dead silence.
"Andraste's tits…" Sera, it seemed, had been paying attention, breaking the silence before the entire group erupted into simultaneous protestations.
"Are you sure? What…"
"How do you know?"
"Bloody shit"
"QUIET!" Arya had to shout to make herself heard, glaring at them all for silence. She, too, was rattled, but knew that the situation had to be handled carefully. She glanced at Cassandra, who spoke.
"Well…now we know why Reynauld insisted on not disseminating information by raven or emissary…it's lucky that we were nearby…" Her face was ashen.
"Solas…can you elaborate for us, please?" Arya asked. Solas's mouth was a thin line, his eyes ominous.
"I have a feeling that our Tevinter friend has a greater expertise in this area than I," Solas said, nodding at Dorian, who stood leaning in the doorway. He had been reading in the other room and come over to investigate the commotion.
"What do I have expertise in besides being dashing?" he waggled his eyebrows suggestively. He coughed awkwardly when they all stared at him.
"Just trying to relieve the tension…" he muttered as he approached them. "What can I help you with?" he asked seriously.
"What can you tell us of this?" Solas extended the trinket to the mage, who sat himself on the other side of Arya and held out his hand in which Solas placed the piece of wood. They watched intently as the mage frowned the instant Solas placed it into his hands, bringing it up to his face for inspection.
He was silent for a long time, occasionally enveloping the trinket in various forms of light. When he used a red light, they all covered their ears as the bauble shrieked, levitating into the air and oscillating viciously before it plummeted to the ground, where it sizzled as it smoked, puttering angrily.
"Well, fuck…" he exhaled as his face contorted in an angry grimace.
"Did…did that thing just scream…?" Varric's gruff voice was frightened, his ears still covered.
Dorian looked to Solas. "Where did you get this?" Solas gestured to Varric, who answered.
"The Nightingale's contact in Val Chevin gave it to us to bring back to the Inquisitor to convince her that she needed to come see him…then refused to speak to us anymore after he gave it to us."
"Odd…" the Tevinter scowled as he rubbed his chin with his forefinger and thumb in his contemplation.
"Well…this is very, very bad." He eventually declared. "This charm was the foci of a specific ritual…" he looked over to Cassandra worriedly, biting his lower lip before continuing. "Blood magic powered by failed human sacrifice."
The group just remained silent, horrified, as Solas nodded in assent, his suspicions confirmed.
"But…why? Reynauld said that this had to do with Corypheus...and that does not bode well..." Arya asked. Dorian shrugged, his eyes dark.
"I couldn't determine the nature of the spell beyond a summoning of some form. It failed, though. This charm," he gestured. "is…incomplete. It would be hard to describe to a non-mage how I know that. What they tried didn't work. Be careful with this contact…one has to wonder how he acquired such a thing…I wouldn't trust him" He thought for a while, chin still between his forefinger and thumb, and they waited for him to continue.
"I want to go with you when you meet this Reynauld and find out how he acquired such a powerful item. Magic of this caliber is only known by Tevinter magisters."
"Well…we can't meet with him today. The gates are shut." Arya bit her lower lip.
"I…could get you into the city if necessary, but I imagine this could wait a night." suggested Varric. Arya nodded.
"Yes…we will wait until tomorrow." Arya concluded.
"Solas...do it's think it's a coincidence that this…thing." She gestured to the piece of wood that remained smoking next to the fire "Is part of an elven heart-tree?"
Solas considered. "Had this incident occurred before what we witnessed today…yes, I would have considered it a coincidence." He replied. "Now…" he hesitated, "Now…I am not sure."
"Why? What happened today?" Cassandra interrupted.
Arya told the group about the incident with Ellya at the Chantry and what they were told of the missing Elven children.
"We are going to investigate the alienage tomorrow, as we had to return before the gates closed to make sure we met up with you all." Arya finished.
"This is serious." The Seeker mused. "Blood magic and several kidnapped Elven children. I am with the Tevinter…I would like to go with you when you meet Reynauld."
Arya nodded. "I think our best course of action is for all of us to enter the city tomorrow, staggered in small groups. Varric will lead Cassandra, Dorian, Solas, and I to meet with this Reynauld, but I think it should just be Solas and I that infiltrate the alienage. I would ask Sera, but…" Sera's a stupid bitch when it comes to her own kind and wouldn't keep her damn mouth shut…
"Shite's all fucked up, innit? Why do we have to involve ourselves? Just kidnap the old codger and let's get going while the going's good."
Arya had to bite back her temper, but the fire's roar betrayed her irritation.
"Because, Sera, we couldn't even do that until the boat arrives, and we're not sure what's going to happen if even if we did that." She said patiently. "Besides…as I commented to Solas today, there's something wrong with this city. Something's not right. And I want to figure out what it is. It would be wrong for us to walk away when we can do something about it."
It was a subdued evening, and the party barely spoke to each other. She waited for them all to turn in before consulting with her friend.
"Dorian…what do you think is going on?" whispered Arya.
"It figuratively kills me to say this…but I really don't know, sweet thing. But I agree with you…something is not right. And I am with you all the way. Just let me know when you would like to leave." She nodded and hugged him before trudging up the creaky stairs to the bedroom she and Solas shared.
A fire crackled in the hearth, and she saw Solas sitting shirtless in front of it on their bedroll, a book open on his cross legs as he read.
She smiled as she approached him. He turned as her footsteps elicited creaks in the ancient floorboards, slapping his book shut and then he held her arms out to her wordlessly. She came to him and he held her in his lap in front of the pensive fire. She buried her face in the hair on his chest, inhaling his scent deeply. His smell engulfed her, relaxing her. He kissed the top of her head and began the slight characteristic rocking he always did when he held her like this.
"What's going on, Solas?" she murmured. "Even in Adamant Fortress, I'd never felt things being so…so wrong. The hairs on my back stand on end and my heart hammers in my chest."
"I feel it, as well, vhenan. You were right that we need to investigate. The very air is foul. I thought it was my distaste in how the humans treated us, but now I see that it is something…more." They sat in front of the fire for a long time, enjoying their closeness. Eventually, Arya had to remove herself from her lover's arms to add more wood to the fire.
"Let us sleep, vhenan. We can ponder in our dreams." She nodded and climbed into their bedroll, burying her face in the furs. Solas crawled in behind her, pressing his chest against her back as he curled himself around her. She felt him press a kiss the back of her neck and she smiled, snuggling against him.
Wolves are seriously some of the coolest creatures in existence - easily one of my favorite animals since I've been about 8 years old and read a children's series written by Jean Craighead George that begins with "Julie of the Wolves." The last book, "Julie's Wolf Pack" is my favorite, as it is written from the wolf pack's POV and talks about pack dynamics. Super easy reads for a rainy day if you all are interested.
So yea…the reveal of Solas's identity elicited quite a girlish squee through the tears.
Sera and Vivienne has such high S-factor that I never, EVER brought them on missions. So I apologize to those who like Sera, but I wanted to slap her upside her freaking face so, so, so, SO many times. If I wasn't such a completionist, neither she nor Vivienne would be in my party.
…bitches.
Here's to a good semester! *drains glass of wine*