Work Text:
The Inquisitor roughly grabbed a bunch of elfroot by its base and pulled. The small, leafy plant tore out of the ground, showering her with tiny dirt clods. Shaking the dirt out of her thick ginger hair only stoked her annoyance. She heaved a deep, frustrated sigh, and continued to the next plant. Her hands grew hot and she had to fight to keep her magic at bay, or else risk singeing the valuable healing herbs she had come to collect. She was upset, and trying to work through exactly why she was upset only served to make her more upset. She knew her companions were a perceptive bunch, at least the ones who were there. A fresh surge of anger surged through her at the thought. She looked around. Varric was busily harvesting a thick patch of herbs up the hill. So busy, in fact, that it aroused suspicion in the Inquisitor. Had he been watching her? Down the slope, she heard the clinking of Blackwall’s armor through the trees as he dug the plants out of the ground. Once her immediate area was clear, she stuffed the plants in a small linen sack and threw it down the hill, where it rolled neatly to a stop next to their gear.
"I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone pick elfroot so aggressively," said Varric, now openly watching her. She scowled. “Well, maybe Cassandra, but I’m pretty sure you’d give her a run for her money.”
“Not now, Varric. I’m not in the mood,” she said.
“That much is obvious,” said the dwarf. He threw his own sack of harvested herbs down the hill to rest in their pile of supplies. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked after a moment.
“No,” she said, too harshly. She immediately regretted her tone, but Varric didn’t look shaken. He shrugged, put his hands up in mock surrender, and strolled down the hill. Blackwall popped his head out of the forest and rolled a dirty sack overflowing with plant life down the rocky slope next to his friend.
“You know the merchant at the Crossroads sells this stuff already cut and dried, right?” asked Blackwall.
“Do you want to be the one explaining to Cassandra why we’re using Inquisition funds to buy something that we can harvest ourselves for free?” asked the Inquisitor. Blackwall smirked.
“I just thought I’d mention it,” he said.
“Free? I don’t know about you, but my time is extremely valuable,” said Varric. The Inquisitor threw him a burning glare. “And completely at your disposal, Inquisitor.”
She frowned at Varric’s formal use of “Inquisitor”. He usually called her by a nickname. He used “Ginger” or “Red” interchangeably. She would roll her eyes in mock exasperation, but the truth was that she liked it. The familiarity with which the dwarf talked to her gave her a sense of inclusion and acceptance she had not felt since she left her Dalish clan months ago. “Inquisitor” was what everyone else called her, the title that dictated who and what she was to everyone regardless of proximity or affiliation. It was the title by which she thought of herself even in her private thoughts more and more frequently.
Her identity was changing as swiftly as the world around her. Eowyn, First to the Keeper of Clan Lavellan, was no longer foremost in her thoughts. She was now Head Inquisitor, on a mission to save all of Thedas from an ancient darkspawn bent on carrying out the apocalypse. As someone whose primary job was to keep the memories and traditions of her clan alive, the shift in her sense of self wore on her. Now the only people who called her by her true name were Blackwall, the tortured Grey Warden who stole her heart and shared her bed, and Solas.
She looked around, listening with her elf ears for any sign of her wandering companion, the only other elf mage in her company. She sighed when her acute senses picked up nothing but the sounds of wind and wildlife.
“I haven’t seen him since we left camp this morning,” said Blackwall. His voice was soft and kind. He knew his lady was in pain, but only suspected the reasons behind it.
“We need supplies from the Hinterlands; horses and herbs. There’s a farmer near Redcliffe who’s reported strange behavior in the wolves near the castle,” Cassandra had said. “You should go, and bring Solas. He hasn’t left his cave since you returned from the Fade.” The authority in her Nevarran-accented tone was sufficient to let Eowyn know that it wasn't merely a suggestion. Solas had responded to the Inquisitor’s request to accompany her team the way he always did, with polite respect. It was the lack of warmth that bothered her. The lack of familiarity and camaraderie that she had felt keenly since she had chosen to conscript the rebel mages rather than offer them an equal partnership in the Inquisition. Eowyn saw the betrayal in Solas’ eyes after she made that decision. She had tried to explain it to him, as she had explained it to everyone else, but he would not hear her. It was a black mark on their friendship that had once been so tight, and Eowyn wasn’t sure if it could ever be made right.
“We need to move,” said Eowyn, grabbing up the bags of herbs and adjusting them against the mages’ staff that rested between her shoulder blades. A slight rustle in the leaves made her ears twitch, and her grip tightened on the staff for a moment. She looked at her companions, who were unperturbed.
“You seem on edge, Red. You sure you don’t want to wait here for Solas?” asked Varric.
“I mean to find him. We might not be on the best of terms right now, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let him wander out there alone when this place is swarming with templars,” said Eowyn, the pitch and volume of her voice rising with each word. Blackwall raised his eyebrows at Varric, who smirked back at the tall man.
“Whatever this beef is with you and Solas, you need to work it out. You’re making Bianca nervous,” said the dwarf, patting Bianca, his prized crossbow, in the crook of his arm.
“I’m not the one with the problem,” huffed Eowyn.
“Oh no?” said a voice in the trees. With another slight rustling of the leaves around him, Solas' slim form appeared in the clearing, expression completely blank. “I believe you were the one who accused me of being addicted to the Fade.”
“Where have you been?!” Eowyn almost shouted.
“In the Fade,” said Solas simply. Eowyn’s eyes blazed and she glared in turn at all her companions as if to say “SEE?!”.
“The spirits here have much to show us,” he said, and dragged a large linen sack out of the bushes. The sack was filled to bursting with elfroot and other healing herbs, and it was more than Eowyn, Varric and Blackwall had managed to gather themselves in hours.
“You could have at least said something,” said Eowyn. Fire lipped at the tips of her fingers and she balled her hands into fists by her side.
“What would have been the point?” said Solas, looking coolly at the Inquisitor.
“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked, stung.
“My counsel on such matters has been largely ignored,” he replied. Eowyn could feel her face reddening, which only made her more furious.
“Solas, you are not the only person giving me counsel. What, are you saying that I should ignore everyone else when they disagree with you?!” The Inquisitor fumed at her elf companion and Varric looked on as if he actually suspected she might start breathing fire.
"I don't think we're talking about elfroot anymore," Varric said quietly out of the corner of his mouth to Blackwall, who nodded solemnly.
“I am merely observing that you have made your alliances perfectly clear,” said Solas, his voice dangerously calm as his eyes bored into the Inquisitor. Varric looked at Blackwall, who stood staring at the pair in alarm. Eowyn looked as if she were about to scream or cry, and the raw emotion on her face both hurt and frightened the Warden. He wanted to help, but he knew there was nothing he could do in that moment. Varric cleared his throat and put a gloved hand on the Warden’s plated gauntlet.
“Hey uh, come on, Warden. I think I saw that goat that farmer was looking for down the trail a ways,” said Varric. The Inquisitor glared at him, as if she had forgotten anyone else was there. Blackwall grunted in response and followed the dwarf out of the clearing, looking back briefly at his lady, his eyes full of worry. Eowyn waited until she judged they were a good distance away, counting her breaths.
“My alliances?! What about your alliances?! You are supposed to be on my side!” Eowyn felt the tears well up in her eyes and she knew that there was nothing she could do about that, but she held on to the sob in her chest that was threatening to escape with all the determination she could muster.
“Because I am an elf or because I am a mage? I am unclear. Please explain, Inquisitor. Those are the two identities we share that you seem to both accept and reject at the whims of the host of your other advisors.”
“Because you are my friend!” she shouted, swallowing another sob. Solas’ eyes softened for a moment, before he turned his back to her.
“We were friends, once,” he said, twisting his gnarled oak staff in his hands.
“Are we not friends now?” Eowyn asked pleadingly to his back, he did not turn around.
“I do not know how to answer that, Eowyn,” he said.
“I wish you would let me explain my reasoning,” she said. The Inquisitor took a seat on a fallen tree and stared sullenly into the dirt at her feet.
“There is no need. I understand your reasoning, I just wish those decisions had been different,” he said.
“So there’s no argument, then. I’m just wrong.”
“The mages have accepted their fate, and the Wardens seem to be keeping out of trouble, for now. The Wardens remain a liability and the mages remain oppressed by military force. Everything is changing and yet everything is still the same.”
“No one trusts the rebel mages, Solas. You know that. I had to make the hard decision,” said Eowyn. There was a hollowness in her voice that she knew he heard. He turned at that, and she could have sworn he was exploiting her weakness.
“You made the safe decision. Tell me, were you afraid that you would lose your authority as Inquisitor if people saw the apostate siding with the rebel mages?” his usually calm voice was laced with scorn and Eowyn felt like she had just been slapped.
“Is that what you think? That I effectively imprisoned the mages because I was worried about my credibility?!”
“I think your ear has been bent, or perhaps flattened, by your team of human, non-magical advisors and -,” Eowyn slapped him across the mouth, hard, leaving an angry red mark in her wake. Solas put a hand to his face, his expression strangely unsurprised.
“You dare,” she said, not bothering to contain her sobs any longer. They sat for a long moment in silence so prominent it seemed to manifest itself physically.
“I apologize. That was needlessly cruel of me,” Solas said finally, his voice soft.
“That’s how you feel though, isn’t it?” Eowyn knew it was the truth, and she feared his confirmation.
“How I feel doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is stopping Corypheus,” he said, almost automatically.
“No, you don’t get to do that. Not you. Don’t you think I know how I stand around here? Do you think that I’m ever allowed to forget that I’m an elf and an apostate? I’m constantly reminded that the humans see me, see us, as less than they are. Forget about being a mage apart from the chantry’s Circle. There is apparently only one right way to use one’s magical gifts in this land.”
“That you want to forget those things is perhaps the most concerning,” he said.
“You know that’s not what I meant,” she replied. He studied her for a moment.
“Isn’t it?” his face was genuinely questioning.
“I’m a Dalish mage, first to the Keeper of Clan Levellan. That identity is all I have. I know who I am,” she said sternly.
“You are also the Inquisitor. How does that fit in with your Dalish mage sensibilities?” spat Solas.
“Do you think this is easy?! Everyone is counting on me to be this person that they all expect different things from, but no one will tell me exactly what it is I am supposed to do!”
“So instead you’re a different person to everyone you interact with, is that it?!” Solas shouted. It was the first time he had really raised his voice above his infuriating calm and the contrast shocked Eowyn.
“What are you talking about?” she asked. Confusion didn’t even begin to describe her mental turmoil.
“I thought I knew you. I thought I saw something that I hadn’t seen before, but I was mistaken,” said Solas. Eowyn felt her heart drop into her stomach.
“You didn’t answer my question,” she persisted. Solas sighed and pinched the bridge of his long nose.
“You are your Keeper’s first when you speak with me, but you are not always the same. You are different when you are with Cassandra, or your advisors. Who are you when you speak with Blackwall?” Eowyn’s eyebrows shot up.
“What does that matter?” she gasped.
“If how I feel is so important to you, then I’ll tell you. I think you’re letting your closeness to the Warden cloud your judgement,” said Solas, his face lined with disgust. Eowyn’s scowl grew to match his.
“Ah, there it is! You don’t trust the Wardens, and you don’t trust Blackwall. So what, does how I feel about him not factor into this at all? Do I not get to be a person anymore now that I am everyone’s Inquisitor?” Eowyn nearly shouted, and then caught her breath, studying Solas’ face. The elf looked remorseful for half a second before his face hardened again as he turned it to her.
“That man has a secret, you should be careful,” said Solas, the hardness in his eyes softening as he looked into hers.
“What do you know about it?” she asked, breaking the intensity of his gaze by staring at her fingernails.
“I know a thing or two about keeping secrets, Inquisitor,” he said.
“Well what about you?” she asked, turning on him.
“What about me?”
“If you see so much, if you know all these things for certain then maybe help me instead of brooding in the Fade all the time!” Eowyn’s voice was pleading.
“I do not brood,” he said, a sneer forming on his mouth.
“You do. Maybe you don’t realize it, but you do. Instead of talking or discussing, you simply write me off as a disappointment. How are you supposed to advise me or even the Inquisition if your main concern lies in another plane?” Solas looked off into the distance for what seemed like an eternity before he turned back to Eowyn.
“You’re right,” he said simply. “It’s been so long since I’ve been around people, that I have forgotten how it is. I will consider that.”
“Thank you,” she said, and she felt she could finally take a deep breath again. “So what happens now?” she asked. The corners of Solas’ mouth flickered in what was almost a smile.
“Now we find our friends and do our best to pretend they were not listening to our entire exchange,” he said simply. Through the trees, Eowyn heard a faint embarrassed cough. Solas looked at her for a long time, pondering, and then finally shook his head slightly, his face unreadable. He started off down the trail to the edge of the woods.
The overwhelming burden she felt that she could not fix what was broken was slightly lifted, but still not gone. Talking would help, she just hoped that not every conversation would go that way. She hefted her packs over her shoulder and went to regroup with her friends.