This Cursed World

Dusk was still a few hours away, and to utilise the last daylight, they drove south to where Anarel reported a rift. Still enraged, Ennaly started the journey in a canter, her hair whipping behind her. She didn't want to give in to the idea that the longer she rode, the more her anger turned into despair.

She had always thought the Dalish were honourable, worthy, the way she considered her own clan. Seeing a clan as barbaric as Solas claimed some were, shattered the image she held of her entire life. She had never been part of another clan, and while she had known Anarel had been cruel towards her, she had never considered his cruelty extending further. She was Dalish, and if the Dalish weren't what she always assumed, what did that say about herself? She'd always held a certain pride in her identity, but really, could she still claim the same?

And besides all that, facing Anarel loosened old pains, pains she had mostly buried, but couldn't be fully denied. Some old part of herself bubbled to the surface, and brought along her old insecurities.

A familiar pull on her Anchor told her of the proximity of a rift. It felt good to be on her feet again, to have her staff in hand and not hold back. Lightning erupted from her body at the wraiths surrounding them, and she revelled in it. Beautiful, bright, volatile and humming with the charge of energy. This dance across the battlefield was all she needed, choreographed to her lightning, Solas' command over ice, Dorian's spirit energy, and the steel growl of Bull's axe. A fight meant a certain surrender to the moment, a focus that allowed her to think of nothing else but the magic raging in her veins.

Even the terror demons in the next wave were easy to kill with the use of the Anchor's charge, but Ennaly could slowly feel the weariness of the emotions from the day exhausting her.

And then came the pride demon.

Ennaly remembered the first pride demon she fought, before she was named Herald of Andraste. She nearly died in that fight. But she was more experienced now, had more power. The Anchor's charge was depleted, but she wasn't alone. Bull hacked in on the demon, it was screeching in pain, the killing blow was near...

But the demon had the means to further its reach besides its claws. Before Bull's axe fully shattered its essence, its whip landed white-hot on Ennaly's face with a crack of power. Lightning, like her own magic. Blood ran down her left eye, the cut searing with pain, and she cried out. The last of the demon dissipated, and she just had to reach out her hand, force her will through the mark, and close the rift.

With unsteady hands, being half-blinded by her own blood, she reached for a potion and downed it. Comforting warmth descended to her stomach, the burning pain softened, and flesh knitted together, but the potion couldn't dissolve the blood that covered half her face.

Darkness slowly crept in from the edges of her vision as sound numbed down to silence. She saw a shape resembling Dorian running closer to her, but it faded to blackness.

"I think I'm going to…" Ennaly muttered, unsure if she spoke it out loud, before she fainted, not noticing the other figure Fade-stepping near her to keep her from hitting the ground.

"I think that is all we can do," she heard Solas' voice.

"Try some more, would you," Dorian suggested.

She could feel the familiar touch of Solas' magic on her skin on the left-hand side of her face.

"Shh, stay still," Dorian said to her as she began to stir. There was soft velvet under her head. She was on Dorian's lap.

When the touch of magic left her skin, she opened her eyes. The blood was cleaned away and her vision sharpened. The two other mages leaned over her, Dorian's face upside-down and Solas kneeled in front of her, having just used restorative magic.

"Is it bad?" she asked, touching the left side of her face. She winced.

"Magical damage like this will leave a scar," Solas said.

Dorian shot him an angry look, as if was not supposed to say that. "You still look as pretty as always, Ennaly."

"I think it's badass," Bull added. "Scars just show the moments you faced trouble but stood victorious."

She sat upright. Her head swam, but steadied slowly. "You must have a mirror," she said to Dorian. "I want to judge this myself."

He grabbed his pack and took a small hand mirror, the back wood inlaid with iridescent shells. Her reflection showed a red swollen line starting about two inches above her eye, and ran down to two inches below. Above her eye, it split her eyebrow in two. She didn't care for that, but the line below her eye, over her cheekbone, split her Vallaslin cleanly in two.

She stared at it. Just hours after she denounced the Dalish and proclaimed herself to the Dread Wolf in anger, her Vallaslin, the mark that made her visibly Dalish, split.

"Well, that's just bloody typical, isn't it," she muttered. "The Gods act quickly. I lost myself in my anger, and now my anger made me lose a bit of me. By a pride demon, even. Fenedhis."

"Ennaly?" Dorian asked concerned.

"I'm not that vain," she replied defeatedly, handing back the mirror. "The scar itself isn't that bad, I don't care for it. Thank you for healing, Solas."

She rose, took a few steps, and kicked a rock out of frustration. The pain in her toe was welcome. "I wish there was more to hit."

"If you need to hit something, you can hit me," Bull said. "And speaking of hits... That was one hell of a slap you gave that Elf. Good technique, nice and flat hand. It'll have left a mark."

Dorian grinned. "Yeah, that was pretty good. What did he say to warrant it?"

I didn't break you. You were already broken.

A second dagger stab opened old wounds. Ennaly halted her steps as if the words hurt her physically. Dorian couldn't know what they'd been talking about, since Solas clearly hadn't been translating everything. But he had heard.

Involuntarily, she turned around to face him, her eyes large. The look of concern softened to compassion "No, Ennaly, do not think that," he said as he walked towards her. "His words were meant to hurt you. He was cruel. But it meant nothing. It does not make you any less, do you hear me?"

His gaze was intense and his words consoling, but Ennaly didn't accept their truth. She turned around, feeling unworthy of the compassion, but Solas grabbed her shoulders and made her turn back to face him. "Ennaly, I am serious. Whatever he said to you... just now, or years ago... All lies. You are not broken. You are not less of a whole than anybody else. Do not let him talk you down."

"Crap," Bull grunted, catching on. "Did he really say that? Can we go back to smash his head?"

Dorian looked up from where he was still sitting. "What?" he asked, puzzled. Solas let go of Ennaly's shoulders as she faced Dorian, hands on her lower belly, over the Vallaslin that could never solidify its promise.

"I can't have children, Dorian," she said blankly.

Dorian stared at her, mouth open. But it wasn't long before her first tear came. A second later, it turned into a sob. And a second after that, Dorian rose, wrapped his arms around her, and gently lowered them to the ground. She had just met an entire Dalish clan, led by the most unpleasant man she'd ever known, and here, these three men, none of them Dalish, offered her more understanding than one of her own ever did.

She didn't know when she decided to start talking, but sometimes her mouth had a way of talking before her mind could truly process it. Or maybe this was her mind's way of processing.

"If there's one thing a Dalish woman is always taught, is that it's her duty to one day have children, because one way or another, our numbers dwindle. And when you're also a mage... That duty doubles. Our magic is becoming more and more rare as generations come and go. My Keeper found a First from another clan who would visit us. We could share knowledge, and well..." She sighed, looking up to the darkening skies. "Sure, Anarel was ten years older than me, but he was so handsome and his words so sweet. I thought I was in love. I thought he loved me, too. Turns out I just loved stories too much. The all-father and all-mother together? Surely we'd get the most perfect children, and they would be so gifted with magic."

"That... sounds strangely familiar," Dorian noted with unease.

Ennaly turned to him and smiled faintly. He had told her some of his own struggles. It was strangely different for them, since Dorian never desired that life while it was all she ever wanted.

Mournfully, she placed her hands on her lower belly. It didn't matter anymore what she wanted. "It never happened," she continued. "Time passed by, but I would not get with child. It wasn't him... He got another girl pregnant. He blamed me for not getting pregnant, too. The longer it took, the rougher he got. His son was born, but nothing would take seed in my body. Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore. He used to hurt me and then heal me later and I just had enough."

She glanced up and could see the anger in the men around her. Solas had his fist clenched and looked away, seemingly imagining having blasted Anarel with spells after all. Bull was more enraged now than he had in the fight with the demons, but Dorian just looked at her with sympathy.

"He left, and I still never got with child. His son grew up in my clan. He started to show magic when he was seven. He looks like him, a lot. He will eventually be my First when I take over as Keeper."

"That is messed up," Bull grunted, but Ennaly ignored it.

"There were a few others after Anarel, who were decent enough men, but it never happened. I stopped wanting to, in the end. I'm... Okay with it now. As I got older myself, I realised I was quite happy I never had a child. I had enough responsibilities. My life wasn't easy, you know. I didn't want to be responsible for another mage child in our world, doomed like I was, having to look over their shoulder at everything they did, make too many personal sacrifices, just to avoid getting caught by templars or killed by Humans. I didn't want a girl having to go through what I had to. It was my dearest dream, once, but now I'm just happy I didn't bring another child into this cursed world."

Solas rose. He averted his face from the others, but they could practically taste the emotions that surged from him. Anger. Sadness. Guilt?

Ennaly's mind wasn't done processing, and she continued her story. "But, it's not all bad. At least we're here together to make this world better. The mages helped us close the Breach. They might get more freedom now. I don't know what the next Divine is going to rule, but it might be better. And I'm Inquisitor, I might be able to do some good for the Elves. I have hopes for the future."

Dorian hugged her, good and long, and whispered words of encouragement. When he finally let her go, it was almost dark. Ennaly smiled at him and got to the waterside to wash her face.

Gods, she felt empty. Not even a full day had passed since they sat near that large wolven statue and discussed her Vallaslin. Had she really faced off against Anarel, and had she really said all those things? It was almost surreal.

Dorian had started a campfire when she returned and Bull was busy placing their bedrolls so they had something warm to sit upon.

"Where is Solas?" she asked, realising she didn't see her fellow Elf anywhere.

"He went into the forest a while ago," Bull said, pointing in a direction.

Ennaly followed his outstretched finger and noticed a small trail. "I want to check on him, see if he doesn't hold any harsh feelings."

"Solas wouldn't hold harsh feelings for you," Dorian said. For some reason, he held this image in his mind that they were both smitten with each other. Ennaly had never told him how Solas pushed her away in the Frostbacks. Perhaps she should tell him, but not now.

She scoffed. "You didn't hear what Anarel said. And whatever you say, Solas isn't the type to just walk away like this."

It was odd. Solas never acted impulsively like this before. But this day had been rough on him as well, with all of Anarel's taunting he had to endure. And who knows what he thought about her story. Perhaps he felt disillusioned because she was never the strong person he might have believed she was, seeing how she had let herself be treated when she was younger, or even today.

The forest was dark. Ennaly conjured a small ball of magical light to illuminate her path. She was Dalish, and living in a forest was all she'd known, once. It was easy for her to follow the trail left by their lone Elf in the leafy soil. "Solas?" she called out softly, but there were no traces of him nearby. A little further, then, where the trail made a turn towards the river. They always informed each other if they took a bath or just wanted some time away from the others. But if Solas had taken a wash, he would have gone to the part of the stream closer to their campsite.

Suddenly, a figure appeared next to her from around a tree, and Ennaly, keeping a careful eye on the soil to not lose the trail, missed it until they collided. With a yelp of surprise, she lost concentration on her light, and she was cloaked in darkness. Unseen hands grabbed her shoulders to steady them, and they didn't fall over.

"Ennaly?" a hoarse voice asked, but even without it, she recognised the spicy scent as Solas. He must have circled back and crossed his own path.

"Yes, it's me," she replied quietly, her heart beating in her throat. "I was looking for you."

But instead of letting go, he wrapped his arms further around her and pulled her closer to him. "I am so sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking with remorse.

Ennaly stood rooted to the spot, uncertain what she needed to do. Solas' heartbeat pounded on her own chest, rapid and loud, and he made no signs of letting her go.

"Thank you," she said uncertainly, stifled by the way Solas pressed her against him. What else could she say? This unexpected proximity gave way to an entire load of undesired emotions, the reluctant flutter in her heart not the least. But there was nothing romantic about his embrace. What had happened to him to act this way? Solas was always so stoic, as if emotions didn't affect him, but now...

He clutched at her as if she was the only aid in a river rapid, needed for survival. His grip almost hurt and rendered her mostly unable to move. And he was never much of a touchy person. The ease she had with Dorian and Varric, whom she could both hug without problems, was never there for Solas. All of his touches always seemed controlled, deliberate, purposeful, rarely frivolous or self-indulgent.

What could she do now? His distraught was clear, and all she wanted was to console him. Why did words not come easy to her, the way they came to Varric? With his arms around her, she could only bend her arms at the elbow. A little awkwardly, she reached out to his waist.

Her touch shook him out of his thought and he leaned back. What little light made its way through the leafy canopy shone in his eyes, staring at her. One of his hands found its way towards her check. "I will make it right, I promise," he whispered, barely audible, but so solemn.

Realising her arm was free, she raised it to let the Anchor's light shine on them. Solas' face was pale, his eyes very reflective. "I... am fine," she lied to reassure him. "But you're not making a lot of sense, Solas," she said quietly, uncertain what she was supposed to do.

"This world," he muttered, but he didn't explain himself further. "I am so sorry." A single tear trickled down his ghostly face, staring at her as if he were seeing a spirit.

Carefully, she extended her own hand to wipe away the tear with her thumb. "Solas, what is going on? You're scaring me. Talk to me, please, I'm here for you," she begged.

If he had heard her, he made no sign of it. He kept his eyes locked on her, and slowly, the shock in them faded away. Nervous now, she pulled her hand away, but Solas kept his on her scar-free cheek. Gently, he caressed her skin with his thumb. Ennaly was unable to break their eye contact, but her breath halted in her throat. She was almost a head smaller than him, but with her upright posture in contrast to Solas current pose, she appeared taller than she normally was. As he held her, his eyes softened to tenderness.

"How can you be real?" he whispered with wonder. "You are kind, thoughtful and smart. It just cannot be."

Her heart skipped a beat. He said exactly what Anarel said to her, but from his mouth, it sounded genuine. Whatever she was feeling right now, she had to stow away. Solas clearly wasn't himself yet. "If I'm not real, then how can you be holding me?" she managed to ask.

He kept her gaze, his expression almost fearful, as if he didn't believe her. It reminded her of when she was small, awoken from a nightmare and convinced it had been real, when her mother used to console her. Perhaps that would work? Slowly, she took his hand from her cheek and moved it down to her chest, over her heart.

"See?" she said in a whisper. "A heartbeat. I am here, and I am very real." She extended her own hand to his chest and placed it over his heart. It beat rapidly. "Just like you."

They remained like that for several moments. Slowly, Solas' heartbeat quieted down. And finally, he broke their gaze and cast his eyes downwards to his hand on her chest. His hands were beautiful, she remembered, as he stirred his. His fingertips grazed over the bare skin peeking out above the neckline of her tunic, moved them to her collarbone, traced it all the way to the dip between them, and finally, a few inched down.

Unsteadily, she couldn't suppress a gasp. Gods, she had never meant this as an intimate moment and had wanted nothing more than to calm him down, but suddenly...

Solas softly exhaled, and a frown appeared on his face. Suddenly surprised, he jerked his hand away from her chest and took a step back. He averted his gaze, rubbed his eyes with his and took another deep breath. When he lowered his hands, he appeared completely calm again. "Forgive me," he said. "My emotions got the better of me. I will not let it happen again."

Ennaly stood there, the memory of his touch lingering on her skin. She didn't understand what had just transpired, but she certainly didn't have the nerve to ask. "It is okay, Solas," she said. "If... you want to talk, or have a comforting shoulder, or just... sit. Whatever you want, you are not alone. I'm here. And I am certain the others are, too."

He had a hard time meeting her eyes. "Thank you," he said, his voice strong again. "I - I have been selfish. Are you alright, Ennaly? A lot has happened today."

Yes, she wanted to say, but there he was in front of her, having just bared a part of his soul to her. She couldn't lie to herself after that. "No," she said, her voice small. "I am not okay. I will be, but not now."

He took an awkward step closer. "I am sorry you had to face him again," he said, meeting her eyes again.

She averted hers. "Yeah. He used to be... very unkind. It took me years to heal from it, really."

Solas lifted his arm uncertainly, but dropped it again. "Ennaly... You are stronger than you think you are. You showed him today just how much you can do. You made him apologise to you, and you never even needed to use offensive magic. If you ever doubt yourself, think of that moment."

"Yeah..." She smiled, and tilted her head upwards. "It did feel good. I'm sorry, though, that you had to endure him."

He shook his head. "I should not have lost my composure."

"I don't blame you," she muttered, but her voice gained strength. "He was really vulgar. Thank you for standing up for me. It meant a lot to me. I have stood up for others, but... but not many people ever stood up for me."

There was a warmth in Solas' eyes she hadn't often seen. "I could not let him treat you like he did. You deserved better."

The intensity was too much for her, and she glanced down at her toes. "I can't believe I let him kiss me." She couldn't help making a disgusted sound and wiped her mouth on her sleeve, as if she could still feel him there. "Bastard broke my hairpin," she added, lamenting her loose and tangled hair. She'd have to get herself another stick for the next day.

"I am sorry. We can get you a new one."

She found the strength to look up again, and returned his smile. "I do have to say that I agree with him, though. Revenge does taste sweet."

Solas took a step forward. "No, you did not stoop to his level," he said with intensity. He was close enough to touch now. "This was no revenge. If it was, you would have attacked him back. This was justice."

And then he did something he never did. He raised his hand, and with his finger, followed the line of her Vallaslin on her cheekbone. All resolve to suppress the flutter inside her, left. "You represent her values well. Mythal would be proud of you."

The look he gave her now, how many people had ever looked at her like that? He truly regarded her as someone worthy of respect, of admiration, like an equal. And suddenly, a shyness overtook her. Solas took his hand away from her face, but she could still feel his touch warm on her skin.

"Thank you," she said, hoping he didn't catch her increased heartbeat, and gazed at her Anchor. "I hope you understand now why I once said I hoped this power didn't come from Elgar'nan. Or perhaps I'm just giving Anarel too much credit. Anarel chose Elgar'nan, Elgar'nan did not choose him."

"Or perhaps Elgar'nan was just as self-obsessed as him."

Dumbfounded, she couldn't help but laugh. "You don't have to indulge me in this," she said. "All I wanted was to connect with my Gods. And perhaps you're right. You were right about everything today, it seems." She sighed and clenched her fist, temporarily darkening the area as the Anchor was covered. Remembering the words she had spoken, she unclenched her fist and made a self-deprecating scoff. "At least no wolf came to claim me."

Solas straightened himself. He was still standing close, and in his movement, his hand brushed against hers. It was almost deliberate. "Are you disregarding the words to your Gods this easily, Ennaly?" His voice was low. It was a tease, but it somehow felt like more than that.

Unable to look away, she held her breath. From behind the clouds, the moon appeared and shone on Solas' face. In the silver illumination, his irises seemed impossibly bright, like they were made of moonlight. She had never noticed the small purple specks in them. A rare colour, even for Elves, he had said.

"No," she said, releasing her breath.

She wasn't sure if she was imagining it or not, but for a moment, she thought a smirk flashed over Solas' smile. But she blinked, and his gaze relaxed. "He might not have heard me," she stated. "Perhaps I do need statues to converse with my Gods. You'd think there be wolves here, otherwise, wouldn't there be?"

She forced a small laugh as her eyes fell on Solas' amulet. Only because he had just touched her, did she dare to reach out and touch him, taking the amulet in hand. "This is the only wolf-thing around. It's an odd thing to carry. Why this?"

He gave a small smile, stuck between wistful and wicked. "It is a reminder of a promise."

She turned it around, and while doing so, one of the teeth cut her thumb. She cursed, released it and saw the blood emerging from a cut. She winced and sucked on the thumb. "It's sharp," she said indignantly, looking up at Solas.

His face was impassive. "A promise is a serious matter."

How was he able to do that? To go from panicked, to consoling and then... whatever it was he did now, all in the span of minutes. "You're so..." she started, but she wasn't quite sure what she was going for.

"I am so... what, Ennaly?" he replied, curious amusement now on his lips.

"Hard to read," she said, like a statement.

A chuckle. "Well, we need some balance in this world. You are like an open book, sometimes."

A blush crept up and she averted her gaze. Gods, no. She didn't want him to know what she was thinking or feeling. There were emotions she wanted to hide, deep down, deep enough so she herself could forget about them. "Me?" she said conversationally. "No, I'm always a perfect statue, you know me, carved from marble. Nobody ever knows what I'm thinking."

"It is not a bad quality to have." She dared to look up again, knowing her face was flushed. There was affection in Solas' eyes, before it turned a little wistful. "You are a good person, Ennaly. Do not let bastards talk you down. You deserve people that stand up for you."

The smile glided from her face. This day was such a long day. Solas here, an Elf, but not a Dalish one, had given her more encouragement than the Elves in her clan had ever done. They had always made her feel like something was wrong with her, like she was broken. So, to make up for her failings, Ennaly had always given everything to those around her.

She could feel tears well up in her eyes.

"Ennaly?" Solas asked concerned, reaching out a hand to her.

"I'm really not okay," she confessed with a trembling voice, feeling smaller than ever, as a single tear ran down her face. Solas took a step closer and gently wrapped his arms around her. Clearly, not all her tears were yet shed. She was weak, exhausted, like her legs couldn't carry her anymore.

One arm still on her back, Solas hooked the other behind her knees to pick her up. He carried her back to the camp, where Dorian scooped her into his lap and where she eventually fell asleep.