Chapter Text
Rocks clattered down the side of the bottomless canyon until they were swallowed by shadows, their echoes all that returned from the depths. Shivan sat on the edge of the stone shelf, swinging her feet over the chasm as she twirled the hilt of the lyrium dagger around her finger. Several times she feigned she was about to drop it. From across the gap, Solas watched her charade with a sour frown.
It was better than the first two times she’d visited him here. There had been vitriol and a snarling resentment so potent she’d had to fight to get a word in edgewise. Quiet, simmering disapproval was proving much easier to work with.
She flicked her wrist and caught the dagger, the blade singing faintly at the edge of her palm. “So, are any of the legends about you true?”
“You will have to be more specific.”
“Let’s see, there was once a duel between Andruil and Anaris…” From the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of his nose crinkling in disgust. Then she cupped her chin and smiled. “And that tale about the courser. Did a hound really manifest in the Fade, latch onto your backside, and force you to chew off your own tail?”
“Old stories,” he sighed and shook his head. “So old that the truth nestled in the metaphor was lost to time. Now the metaphor is all the world remembers.”
“But the metaphor is still accurate, isn’t it?”
“You wonder what I would do to escape this place.”
“According to the stories, you’d do just about anything.”
He spread his arms, empty hands on display. “Had I the means, I would already be free. No matter how much I will it, I cannot cross this chasm between us, metaphorically speaking.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because you hold the key.” He nodded to the knife still in her grasp as a flicker of disdain creased his brow. “Rather carelessly, it seems, but it’s yours all the same.”
"Hm, then maybe once the gods are dealt with I'll just throw it away. Or find a way to destroy it."
"You won't," he replied evenly.
She shrugged and braced herself for another jab. "Out of the misguided goodness of my heart, you mean."
He cocked his head. "Is it misguided?"
You tell me. But it wouldn't do any good. Varric had warned her the Dread Wolf kept his cards close to his chest. So close she was certain she'd never get a glimpse of his hand until it was already in play. "I hope not," she admitted.
Somehow it felt like surrendering their little battle of wills. Especially as the faintest of smiles graced his lips.
"May that hope serve you well, Shivan."
~-*~*~*-~
Unholy screeching echoed throughout the courtyard as Shivan ducked and weaved through a writhing mass of blighted tentacles that threatened to crush her at every turn. It was a deadly dance that forced her to make up the moves as she sliced through anything and everything within her reach. For a brief moment the sea of flesh parted. She took a running head start and vaulted over several tentacles with her walking stick before plunging her dagger into the glowing red pustule.
A geyser of ichor erupted from the mass, drenching her already clotted cloak and every sliver of exposed skin in its oily slick. With one last piercing wail the tentacles dropped to the ground where they remained still as death. Shivan stumbled to her feet, desperately heaving air into her burning lungs.
As the surge of adrenaline waned so too did her sense of victory. Three days she’d been at this, wandering from one end of the palace grounds to the other, clearing out remnants of the Blight. All the while Solas remained shut away in the library, hunting down Ghilan'nain's research notes. It was supposed to be weaker in this state, he had said, cut off from the source behind the barrier. Even so, it felt as foolish as fighting the ocean- defeat one wave and there would always be another, and another, and another.
“Ugh! And now the wallowing begins once more.” Red vapor rose from the rapidly decaying husk of the pustule and quickly donned the form of a sneering human general.
“You again,” she sighed. The spirit had been hounding her for days, lurking in her shadow as she fought just to rear its head when she found a moment of peace and quiet. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”
“In all my years serving His Majesty I have never encountered a whelp with such pitiful resolve. Where’s your mettle, girl? They beat it out of you back at the Alienage?”
Despite her exhaustion, she grit her teeth and hefted her walking stick over her shoulder like a club. “Dread Wolf take you, you sorry old codger-”
It cut her off, throwing back its head with laughter. “Oh, but a little fledgling told me you’d rather he take you instead.”
“Shut your gods damned mouth,” she snarled as she swung.
The end of her walking stick whiffed through the air as the old general vanished in a puff of red tinged fog.
“Would you look at that, an elf with a temper sharper than her ears,” it chuckled as it glided away on a sudden gust of wind.
She lost her footing and fell in a heap. There she remained for a time, muttering the vilest of curses into the blighted earth. Soon the fury faded, replaced by a bone deep exhaustion. She had half a mind to stay right where she was and drift off.
Oh, but what she wouldn’t give for a bed. Silk sheets. A plush, feather stuffed mattress. Or a dip in a hot spring. An all-encompassing warmth to comfort the tenderest of her bruises. Maybe if she just closed her eyes and dreamt hard enough…
“I can take you there,” a soft voice offered.
Her eyes snapped open. Hovering inches from the tip of her nose was yet another spirit.
“Mythal’enaste,” she gasped as she bolted upright. Then, when she caught her breath, “Don’t scare me like that.”
“Ir abelas.” It dispersed into a pale cloud, then re-materialized a short distance away.
She peered over at it, trying to place its subtly shifting features. “You… you’re Yearning, right?”
“You wanted to remember me?” It cocked its head bashfully and turned a more vibrant shade of green.
“Of course. You helped me before, so why wouldn’t I?”
“Frustration said I wasn’t worth remembering.”
“The red general?” She scoffed. “It’s an asshole. And assholes aren’t worth listening to… most of the time.”
Yearning shook its head. “It can’t help what it wants. And sometimes it helps me find the aching. It brings heat to the hurt until it simmers to the surface.”
“Alright, whatever works for you lot,” she surrendered with a shrug. “Where did you say you could-”
“To the hot spring! Follow me, Lethallan.”
~-*~*~*-~
Shivan wavered on the precipice of shallow, snowy marble stairs that led down to a vast plane of water. Steam rose from the glassy surface and drifted over her in gentle waves, like the shallow breath of some great sleeping beast. Little piles of withered petals gathered beneath the lip of each step and twirled atop the water. The trees they had come from lined either side of the pool, serving as skeletal sentinels.
It wasn’t like any hot spring she’d ever encountered. The ones tucked in the mountainous passes of the Frostbacks were much smaller, much more… rugged. “This is the hot spring?” she asked again, just to be sure.
“The stones are enchanted,” Yearning said.
She turned around and eyed the spirit where it hovered expectantly. Then her gaze shifted to the looming spires of the castle. Even beyond the palace walls its presence dominated the surrounding skies.
“I can keep watch,” it offered.
With a sigh she turned back to the pool and began shucking her boots and cloak. “Can you read everyone’s thoughts?”
“In a way, yes. Even the ones they bury from themselves.”
Each and every article of ichor soaked clothing fell upon the marble with a wet plop as she descended the steps. “What about Solas?”
It fell silent for a moment, drifting back and forth indecisively. Then, “It runs through him like a river, carving out caverns beneath the surface until he’s hollow. Brittle. He wishes I would not make words of it, so I cannot.”
Naked, she swayed at the edge of the final stop. Goosebumps pebbled her skin as her foot drew a cautious circle through the steam. “Well, I’m not surprised at him being difficult.”
Her breath hitched as her leg plunged into an enveloping heat. A shudder raced up her spine and she couldn’t help but sigh. Ripples distorted her reflection until the woman staring back at her was a faceless stranger.
It made her think of Solas. Almost everything about this place did. All of its tarnished glory, a blighted and dead husk of what it once was. She wondered if he felt the same- like a relic of a bygone era, a shadow cast by a people long since dead and forgotten. Did he recognize himself when he looked in the mirror? Or did he only see a facade, all cracked and chipped and faded from the ages?
She swallowed her breath and plunged beneath the waves. Warmth seeped into her bones and soothed the dull ache in her muscles. Bubbles danced before her eyes as she released a sigh of relief. Below the warming runes etched into the basin of stone cast a faint orange glow. Magic pulsed along their branches. They were more intricate than any enchantment she’d ever seen. One shape bled into another like a tangle of tree roots.
She curiously traced their shapes with the tip of her finger and wondered if they’d be hot to the touch. Before she could swim any deeper a dull murmuring caught her ear. She surfaced with a gasp and shook the water from her ears as Yearning rambled on.
“He smiles like a secret might slip through his teeth. Pale and perfect in the gray. I’d cross the chasm if he’d let me. I’d cleave my half of sundered earth to his if he’d just-”
She gasped again, and narrowly avoided sucking down a mouthful of water. “Stop that,” she hissed and splashed water in its direction.
“Ara seranna-ma.” It dimmed and fidgeted with its hands sheepishly.
“I suppose you can’t help it, can you,” she sighed. Suddenly the water felt unbearably hot and prickly against her skin.
It shook its head.
“Well, if Solas doesn’t want you putting certain things to words, then I don’t either.”
“I understand, Lethallan. Do you still want me to keep watch?”
“Please. Ma serannas, falon.” She smiled when it returned to a lively shade of green.
Then she reclined and spread her limbs, letting the water carry her wherever it willed. Her hair spread in a halo around her, forming an inky cloud as it leeched the Blight’s taint from her. She wasn’t sure when her eyes fell shut, just that one moment she was staring up at dreary skies and the next she was gliding through the dark.
A slight tingling crawled up her arm and caressed the underside of her jaw. Murky visions filled her mind’s eye.
Pale fog clings to a pane of glass. Long, thin fingers delicately swipe it away, like turning the page in a book. Beyond the palace walls a slice of rippling gray sky sits in the midst of rotting trees, guarded by a lonely smudge of green. A slender shape drifts amongst the clouds, her arms and legs spread in surrender. Fingers return, tracing the curves of her protruding from the mirror's surface. There is a catch in the steady rhythm of his breath.
Shivan’s eyes flew open. With a surprised yelp she tried to sit upright, only to fold in half and flail wildly as she began to sink. Before she went under, her gaze flitted to the palace. There, in the lower window of the library tower, she swore she saw a pale figure retreat into the shadows.