Garrett was sitting on the floor.
Back against a door.
The door.
He'd been there the majority of the time for the last five days, the longest time he'd spent idle in years.
It was not restful though, it was painful, horrible.
It felt like just yesterday that he'd carried Merrill off the mountain, the woman catatonic, despite Anders' hollow promises that she was in good health.
Yet it also felt like a hundred years since they'd gotten home, when she'd suddenly stepped out of his arms and headed right to one of the guest-rooms, locking the door behind her. Not a word spoken.
Oriana was the only one Merrill let in, the elf servant was quiet as a mouse whenever she left the room with empty plates or entered it with full ones, so at least Garrett knew his wife was eating. But other than that...he hadn't asked Oriana what was going on behind those doors, the look in her eyes forbade it and...he didn't dare.
In the back of his mind, Garrett knew issues were heaping up as he sat there.
Meredith's policy-war with the nobility had not abated, and they were now without his leadership. On the streets, people were clamouring for the services Meredith had ended with her power-grab and left to Garrett to improvise solutions. And while Varric was supposedly doing his best, even Garrett in his current isolation knew there were rumours flying across the city about what had happened to him and his Dalish wife.
In his office, papers were piling up. All across the city, people were waiting for him, having booked meetings he never came to.
Yet Garrett couldn't move, couldn't leave her.
Part of him wanted to, desperately so.
Another part wanted to bar the door and never let her out.
Yet another to throw her out.
A third, dark and hurt part, to lock her into a dungeon and throw away the key.
Yet for all that, he mostly wanted her to open the door for him, to let him in, to see her.
Maker... Garrett's hands moved up, pressing against his eyes, then forehead, trying to push away the pain and weariness, but, as always, without success. She's killing me.
Garrett wasn't the one to forgive, nor forget. Yet at the same time, Merrill was in there, broken and beyond his reach, and it was tearing him apart.
He hated it, and he hated her, for doing it to him.
For having lied to him, for having avoided him, for betraying him, for hurting him and all his friends, for nearly getting herself killed.
Yet, he somehow was assailed by guilt as well. Doubt, feelings and memories that constantly tore away at his resolve.
If I'd been more attentive-
If I'd helped her rather than-
If I'd been a better husband-
If I'd not helped her-
Garrett's hands moved down, back to his eyes, pressing into them with a whimper. There were no tears, they'd long since run out. Isabela was right, I should have spent more time with her and not on all that...shit.
Next to him, his whimper was echoed, Maric moving to sit up, a large paw softly pressing into Garrett's thigh.
Burying his face deeper into his hands, Garrett managed a whisper. "Thank you." For just being there.
Maric, of course, didn't need the words, as always, he just knew, the dog moving to lie down again, this time with his head across Garrett's legs.
I was away for so long, so often, almost never saw her, fixated on my...and now that she's gone...n-now that she's gone...
Garrett proved himself wrong, there were still tears left to shed.
Maker, we've been fools!
"Garrett...?"
The softly spoken question made Garrett hurry to look away, brushing his sleeve across his eyes even as he realised what a futile action it was. Given how long he'd stayed at Merrill's door, barely feeding himself, he knew he looked awful. When he looked back, it was with a hollow smile. "Varric?" The dwarf was a welcome sight, though the concerned look on his face hurt to see. Then, behind him... "Aveline? I..." He struggled to rise, then realised his legs had fallen asleep ages ago and forced a sheepish smile. "If you're looking for Isabela, she's asleep in another chamber, found her asleep here an hour ago and had her carried away."
"Found or realised she'd fallen asleep as you shared a seat?" Aveline asked, the woman mirroring Varric's concerned look. Noticing Garrett's guilty grimace, she shook her head. "You two are terrible. You're not really helping, sitting outside here, and what would she think, getting yourself sick and tired like this on her account?"
Garrett winced and pulled back at the words, but it was Varric answering, his eyebrows knotting into a frown as he glanced back at the guard-woman. "What else can they do, Aveline?"
Aveline bit her bottom lip, then sighed, shoulders slumping. "I...I know. It's just...frustrating, you know?"
"Tell me about it." Garrett managed a soft smile, though the pain behind it was obvious enough to make his two friends grimace.
A moment of silence passed, the three awkwardly looking at one another, Maric looking on with a droll look on his face.
Then Varric sighed, shifting where he stood. "So, for how long will you sit here? Say what you will about Aveline's diplomacy..."
"Hey!"
"...but she has a point, you can't just sit here, beating yourself up."
"But I have to be here when she..." Garrett sighed and looked away, shoulders slumping as a hand lazily stroked the hair at the back of Maric's skull. "...not that I'd know what to say...or do."
Garrett longed for the moment, yet dreaded it.
Another sigh, and he turned his body enough to look at the door, gazing at it, willing it to do...something, for something as simple as a sound to escape it.
Yet there was nothing.
"Okay, listen. Merrill likes me and Aveline, right?" Garrett looked back, finding Varric crouching in front of him, a gentle smile on his face.
"Yes...?" Garrett answered, wary but relieved at the same time at the implication of the question.
"And you trust us, right?"
Garrett managed a soft chuckle. "Yes, with my life, even."
"And you trust our judgement?"
"Of course." Garrett answered without a second thought, making Aveline and Varric both smile.
Varric straightened, offering his hand to the sitting Garrett. "Then let us take over here, we'll keep guard and help her if need be."
"But I-"
"Need to rest." Aveline grunted, a late smile softening the hard words.
"I don't..." Garrett glanced back at the door, biting his bottom lip at the thought of leaving it, her, even if it was in the hands of two of his closest friends. "...know if I should."
"But you trust us, right?" Varric asked, smile coloured by a sudden grin. "And since we say you need rest...?"
Garrett managed a dim smile. "Smooth-talker." He took the hand, legs protesting, barely awake by now, forcing Varric to grip Garrett's hand with his other hand and grunt as he pulled the human onto his feet. Once standing though, Garrett felt some energy course back into him, but it was energy pulling him backwards, his gaze hesitantly drawn back to the door. "Though I...I should...I..."
"No, Garrett." Aveline took a step forward, gaze firm. "You need to get away from this, at least for a while." Garrett grimaced and looked away, the words biting all too well. "You understand that, right? Get out, get some perspective and air. Or better yet, go to bed."
"I...guess." Garrett, heart heavy with regret, shot the door another look. You could have opened it at any time until now...just a glimpse, a word, I...please... The door remained firmly shut though. Fine. Sad but grim, Garrett turned away. "I'll...go to the Bonepit then."
"That's a...curious choice." Varric muttered, eyeing the human like he'd lost his mind.
Maybe I have? "The Coterie might be largely driven out of Kirkwall, but pockets are still raiding the countryside, taking revenge on me." Garrett grunted and shrugged. "And now they seem to have attacked the Bonepit, judging by the lack of reports. I'll go there with a company and track them down."
Aveline, crossing her arms over her chest, shook her head, tone disapproving. "Garrett..."
He was quick to interrupt. "It's better than staying here, in this..." Depression? Darkness? "...house." Garrett sighed. "I just need to go out, do something, maybe...maybe it'll make me think of something, something that can fix all..." He looked away, a shudder in his words as he barely held back sudden tears prickling his eyes. "...this."
"If you're sure..."
"I am, I need to think, plan, figure things out." Fool's errand, Garrett, you have none of that with Merrill... Garrett grit his teeth at his mind's voice.
"Just..." Varric stepped closer, giving Garrett a pat on the back. "...be careful."
"In the Bonepit?" Garrett asked, puzzled. You know I always am...?
"With what you decide." Varric smiled back.
It was a pained smile though.
8
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Maker, what should I do?
Garrett, his silverite armour shining in the sun, knew he looked every bit the noble and hero as he sat astride a white gelding of imposing size. It was a conscious choice of impression, for with the city rife with rumours about him and the state of him, he needed to reassure the people of his health and ability. And what better way than to look just like the hero they envisaged had slain the Arishok?
Still, he'd kept his helmet on and visor down when going through the streets, sure that his weariness would then have shown on his face, unnerving people.
It felt good though, being outside the city, free to open the visor and breathe the fresh air...it had been a wise decision.
It hadn't helped with the major issue though, his mind stood at a standstill.
I can't just...forgive her, can I?
No, not after everything she's done.
Garrett still had nightmares, seeing Merrill fight him and all her friends like some monster, but in his dreams, she always ended up killing them, one by one...
It could have happened.
Dhavine was in control though...
But who gave her control?
Garrett sighed, the grief caused by the old argument in his head wearing down on him. At least my troops seem too attentive of the surroundings to mind me.
At the head of the column, ten men and women in green and brown cloth and leather made their way forward, bows drawn and eyes scanning the surroundings, the hired hunters acting as a vanguard and final warning as two of their companions scouted further ahead.
Garrett, riding next to a trotting Maric, was right behind the hunters, flanked by two other riders. Men picked by Bastile to accompany their lord. One carried the Hawke banner, the black cloth fluttering in a steady wind, making the bloodied pair of birds upon it seem almost alive. The other, now a sergeant, was sitting straight and proud. Pip, the short Orlesian, had now grown a proper moustache rather than the sorry thing he'd had back when they'd confronted the Arishok, but there was still something young and childish about him as he sat on his horse, head held high and a smile on his lips.
Young enough to still believe in heroism...
Garrett, snorting to himself, wondering when he'd gotten old, glanced back at the rest of his men. Considering he didn't know the strength of the Coterie attack, and that he'd needed to make a show of force to the people having come to doubt his ability to lead, there was a fair number of soldiers behind him. Well-equipped in chain mail and polished helmets, twenty of them carried crossbows while forty others marched with spears and dark kite shields.
Enough to put the fear of the Maker in any bandit.
"Serah, are you sure about this route?" Pip's question was respectful and carefully voiced, the boy no doubt sensing Garrett's state and being worried for him.
Garrett smiled, it was nice to have so many worry for him, it reminded him that there was a world outside the doom and gloom at home. She...Maker, what will I do with her? Cast her out? I should. "Yes, I'm sure. I know the large field on this approach puts us in an exposed position, but I prefer that to the narrower path where we can't manoeuvre when we're ambushed."
"If, you mean?"
"Well, I hope when, to be honest." Garrett managed a brief chuckle at Pip's wide eyes. "Means the Coterie are foolish enough to think they can take us. And that means we can then hunt them down and put an end to this annoyance." If only all problems were so easily fixed. Merrill...what should I do with you...? "I think I'd enjoy killing a few scum right about now, actually..."
"Err...of course, Serah." Pip bowed his head with a grimace, then turned his head, forcing a smile. "Lovely weather, no, lord?"
"Yes, it is." Garrett embraced the changed subject. "Not a cloud in the sky...a little too warm for me though."
Ahead, the ground was widening, opening into a large quarry of gravel and pebbles, a valley in which generations of miners had dumped the refuse from their operations while hunting precious gems and metals. The hunters at the front were exchanging looks as they jogged ahead, one of them shaking his head at another's question, making a third turn and start to jog back. What now? "Well of course you think so, Serah...with all due respect...but you are Fereldian."
Garrett, shaking his head, managed a weary smile. "And we bathe in snow half the year, you mean?"
Guffawing, Pip shrugged. "That's what I hear!"
"It's actually quite refreshing, you know."
"Errr...you're joking."
"What? You expected us to bring in enough water to fill a large tub, heat it up with lots of firewood and then bathe?" Garrett shot Pip an amused look. "I wasn't a noble back there, you know, yet I still needed to be somewhat clean during the winter..."
Pip, first staring in shock, then smiled. "No wonder Fereldians are known as tough."
Garrett shrugged, turning his gaze back to the huffing hunter jogging up to their column now fully inside the quarry. No attack from the Coterie though...shame. "Eh, at least we didn't have to endure Orlesian nobility."
"True enough!" Pip chuckled, though his tone turned somewhat cold as he continued. "They can be really cruel..."
Before Garrett could decide whether to pursue the subject or not, the hunter was in front of their horses, breathing heavily as she wiped her forehead with a gloved hand, her eyes worried. "Serah, Jensen and Cole have not checked back with us, they should have met us here."
Hmm, scouts gone, eh? Garrett grimaced, then raised his voice. "Column, fan out!" Behind him, there was a rustling as soldiers moved to obey. His attention back to the hunter, he looked at her widening eyes. "I want you and your group to move ahead but keep in sight of one another, bows notched and rea-" He frowned, realising she wasn't meeting his gaze, her head tilting ever more backwards. "What? What's wrong?"
The hunter took a step back, then another one, eyes turning wide as saucers. Next to him, Pip's voice was a small squeak. "S-serah...?"
"Yeah? What's the bloody..." Garrett turned in his saddle, frowning...only for the frown to turn into horror at the sight of the thing appearing behind them, rising from the quarry's stones like a whale pushing up from underneath the waves. "...problem?"
The thing's head was the size of Garrett and his mount combined, its body as big as a house, its tail as long as one of the sea serpents known to drag down ships into the sea. And all along its body, white scales shimmered and glinted, unblemished by the rocks and dust it had lied under, waiting in ambush. Clever girl...
"Dragon!"
The shout made the hunters, being the ones facing the right way to see the monster, to run in the opposite direction while his soldiers, slow and confused, turned to stare before they too started running away.
The flight ended with one roar and gust of flame, the energy around it crackling with magic, that engulfed the running hunters, turning them into melting torches taking a few stumbling steps before dropping to the ground, their clothes turned to ash and the flesh beneath a bubbling and scorched mess.
His horse roseon its hind legs in terror. Garrett drew his sword and pulled hard on the reins, trying to wrest back control of the terrified animal even as he shouted, not sure why as he had no plan and no idea what to do. "To me! To me!" High dragon! A damn high dragon!? HERE!? To his surprise, most were running towards him, though if it was due to his call or the sight of the killed hunters driving them back, he wasn't sure. Magic, its breath is magic, so I should...
Above, the dragon towered over him, mouth opening, chest widening, then narrowing.
Nothing, nothing, nothing!
The fire rushed out, and Garrett raised his shield on instinct even as he desperately tried to gain hold of his concentration enough.
There is nothing, there is emptiness, Maker as my witness, if I die here...
He felt the heat, so much it made his skin sting, fumes rising from his armour as his sweat evaporated the moment it escaped his skin, his horse stepping back with a whimpering neigh.
Yet the fire didn't touch him, it split like a fork in a river, running down on either side of him, avoiding not only him, but giving him enough of a wide birth that the men and women behind him or running straight at him avoided the fire as well.
Others were not so lucky, those that had run too far to the sides screamed and shrieked, though it was merely the fire brushing them. Rather than a head-on attack, it sent five to the ground, clawing at their burning flesh and armour. Five more were screaming, but only out of terror as they lay down and hid underneath their shields, covering them from the worst of the attack.
Then, the fire died out, the dragon before them looking at him with puzzlement, only to then narrow its red eyes.
Garrett, shaking from the strain of the barely managed shielding of himself and his troops, gasped a shout. "Crossbows, loose!"
The soldiers were still slow to react, but once the first bolt was loosed, the next were shot in rapid succession as men and women shouted in defiance of the great beast before them.
A single bolt punched through the scales of the dragon's underbelly as the others harmlessly skimmed off, and it only stayed there until the dragon flexed, the scales snapping the missile like a twig. "Prepare to charge!"
"That thing!?"
Before Garrett could answer or even look for who had shouted back, the dragon took flight, large alabaster wings shimmering like silver in the bright sun as it sent a cloud of dust into the eyes of the humans beneath it.
Behind him, Garrett heard Pip mutter a question. "Should we make a run for it, Serah...?"
"Like the hunters?" Garrett asked, staring at the dragon with equal parts admiration for its beauty and dread for its power as it flew over to the other side of the quarry, then higher into the air. "Do you really think it'll let us?"
With a roar, the dragon turned and swooped back, like a falcon about to catch its prey, mouth opening wide, a hellfire growing within. "Errr..." Pip's voice was but a squeak. "...doesn't look like it."
Between them, Maric barked out in annoyance at the human.
"Run and be run down!" Garrett shouted, making sure those that hadn't heard him and Pip's exchange would understand. "Behind me!" Garrett's bark was quickly heeded this time, the spear-men, falling back on their training, created a ring of shields, as the crossbowmen in the centre reloaded their weapons, as if ready to receive an assault from all directions.
Nothing, calm, plan, figure it out...calm...
The fire, a spear of light and death, struck the ground ahead with enough force to send shards of glowing and smoking stones flying, yet then it reached Garrett and his troops.
Nggggh! Swaying in his saddle. Garrett felt the full force of the fire emanating from the dragon's gullet press down on him, trying to crush him under its weight...only to then disappear as it flew past him. Maker, I can't do that for much longer... Turning his shaking horse around, Garrett watched the dragon sweep away, then lazily turned, as if it had all the time in the world. ...and it knows that.
And I can't even do much until we...
"Crossbows! I want that thing brought down! Now!"
Ahead, the dragon, a spear of white silver, hurtled towards them, claws raised, fire growing between sword-sized teeth.
It's going to...oh damn.
"Now! Now! Now!"
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Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for her strength.