Chapter Text
Adamant had been victorious. She had hugged Varric and allowed him to cry for hours. Perhaps it was victorious, but it hadn’t stopped the unsurmounted about loss. She had noticed that Varric hadn’t cried. He had written to his friends of Hawke’s passing and he hadn’t cried. Grief was strange and for some reason it had been today when Basya and him were in the middle of cracking jokes, Varric had lost it.
Guilt gnawed in her stomach. After Varric assured her she could go, she and Blackwall went stargazing on the battlements. The breathtaking view gave her something else to focus on and she revelled in the comfort of his arms.
Basya moved sluggishly up her staircase and used the crates of boxes at the top to pull herself up the last step. She stretched and yawned, but she heard a song of isana. It was clean isana. Muffled my skin, not organs or rib cages, but skin. It couldn’t be a Templar. Basya reached for her current two handed sword normally sheathed and leaned against her couch, but it was gone. The isana was loud and directly behind her so Basya rolled to the side as a blade crashed through the wooden frame and cushions.
“Looking for this?” An elf snarled. He was tall with snow white hair and big green eyes. He glowed blue with isana marking embedded in his skin like a tattoo.
“Wait, are you Fenris?” Basya asked. The elf responded with another swing of his sword.
“Don’t address me!” Basya ducked again and ran to the crates, pushed them all down the stairs so they fell in front of her door.
“Trying to leave me with no escape?”
“No! I’m trying to make sure no one sees an elf fighting the Inquisitor. They’d kill you!” Basya pleaded. He was growing frustrated with her agile rolls and scurrying escapes between his legs. “Please, Fenris! Varric needs all the friends and support he has. You need it too,” Fenris paused and Basya thanked the Stone. She might actually be getting through to him. She was incorrect on this assessment as he backed her into the wall in front of the staircase, his fist glowing blue before plunging it into her abdomen.
Basya’s eyes bulged from her skull. Her breathing quickened, but the elf didn’t drive it too deep. Agonizing pain waved through her stomach. He glared at her with a hatred, Basya never knew someone could possess.
“You murdered Hawke!” He said.
“No I didn’t. Surely, Varric said as much.” Though she was defiant, her words were coated in sorrow.
“Don’t you regret your decision?!” Fenris hissed, he twisted his fist causing Basya to cry out, but she noticed he didn’t drive it deeper.
“No. I did what I had to do for the good of everyone. I’m so sorry. Truely. But between someone who could lead the Grey Wardens and someone who’s politically dead. I made the choice that would help the most people. I don’t regret my choice.” Basya said, a tear streaming down her cheek. “I only regret I had to make it in the first place.”
Fenris was pained and angered by her words. He wrenched his fist free from her stomach and she slid down the wall to the floor. Basya quickly pressed on the wound to staunch the flow of blood.
“What do I do now?” He asked softly. “What do I do without Hawke?!” He screamed.
“There’s a letter on my desk. For you.” Basya said, suddenly remembering. Fenris looked to her then stalked to her desk. It was unburied, at the top of a pile she’d labeled things to mail.
“It’s unopened,” He observed. He sat next to Basya.
“The words weren’t for my eyes.” She shrugged. Fenris carefully broke the seal and Basya watched his big emerald eyes welled up with water as his eyes scanned the page. The elf sobbed.
“I’m sorry! Kaffas, what have I done? I’m so sorry.” He cried. Basya reached her free hand to Fenris and held it. He gripped it back as though it were a life raft on an angry ocean.
There was a knock on her door before it opened. Basya had an open door policy with her friends regululary. If it was locked, everyone, even Leliana, respected her privacy. But if the door was open or closed, but unlocked, anyone was free to come in as they please.
“Hey, Mini, I wanted to thank you for earlier-” The door swung on it’s smooth hinges, but smacked into the crate she had knocked down there. “Mini?! You okay?” He called, but Basya wasn’t sure she had the strength to yell. Things were getting fuzzy. She could hear him shouldering the door, pushing enough aside he could slip through.
Basya realized what a sight it must have been. A destroyed room, a blood streaked wall above her as she held hands with Fenris. He sat unmoving, his eyes glazed over, his bloody knuckles clutching Hawke’s letter.
“Shit!” Varric recovered quickly and snagged a fresh towel that draped over the basin beside Basya’s bed. He sprinted back and moved the arm that Basya guarded her wound with to slip the towel beneath it. The white cotton instantly bloomed red as Varric pressed down causing her to cry out. “What the fuck is wrong you, Fenris! Are you crazy?!”
“Varric,” Basya tugged on his sleeve. “He’s had enough,” Varric’s face was still twisted in horror, but he focused on Basya.
“You’re hurting!” Cole appeared behind Varric. “He hurt you! Why!” He demanded angrily.
“Cole, listen to him. He’s hurting too.” She said. Cole paused.
“He is. Badly. But he still shouldn’t have hurt you.” Varric looked up at him.
“Kid, I need you to go get Dorian or Healer, okay?”
“I will hurry.” Cole vanished.
“Alright, alright, just hold on, okay?” Varric said. Basya cracked a weak smile.
“Hey, Varric, I think Fenris came to visit,” She said. Varric laughed hollowly. After another minute, Dorian appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Bassi!” He was crouched in front of her muttering spells without a moment to comprehend. As if things couldn’t get better, Blackwall, Cassandra, and Cullen all ran in the room. Blackwall knelt next to Varric, a pained expression creasing his brows, but Basya felt relief flood through her body as his presence. Cullen and Cassandra both drew their swords, Cassandra dragging the elf by the scruff of his neck. He didn’t react, remaining limp, allowing himself to be maneuvered.
“No,” They were going to kill him. Basya used all the strength left in her to push herself forward. Her knees and one of her arms kept her upright. Dorian and Blackwall supported her. “No! Leave him go!” She screamed. Cullen and Cassandra stopped. “Leave him go.” She said again. Basya coughed wetly, then she saw the floor rush to greet her face.
Basya’s eyes fluttered open. Varric was sitting in a chair beside the bed, writing. He looked up at her alarm. Her stomach throbbed and the light that shined through the balcony doors was blinding. Blackwall was sleeping on a new couch. Dorian was sitting upright next to her, his eyes closed.
“Where’s Fenris? Did they-?”
“No. He’s in a holding cell.” Varric said. “Thank you, by the way. I’m pissed at the guy, but if you hadn’t…”
“It’s okay,”
“How does it feel?”
“Like a punch, but worse.” She groaned. “How long have I been out?”
“Only a day. Fenris didn’t go too deep and with the two of us putting pressure on it, you didn’t lose too much blood.”
“That’s good.”
“Sparkler and Hero haven’t left your side. Curly only did because Cassandra made him. I think he’d been doing some of your job today,”
“If I untwirl his mustache while he's sleeping, do you think he’d notice?” With his eyes still closed, Dorian scoffed.
“He would indeed notice,” Varric and Basya laughed, but Basya winced. Dorian looked down. Before, he started, he took a pillow and threw it, smacking Blackwall on the couch. “Idiotic girlfriend’s awake.” He said. Blackwall leapt up and sat at the end of the bed.
“Idiotic?!” Basya gasped with feigned offense.
“You didn’t have to jump up and make the scene when I was in the middle of sewing you back together. Still not sure why you wanted to save him in the first place.” Dorian used a few more spells on Basya’s tummy.
“He acted out in grief. While he was wrong, he’s not a bad person.”
“You have far more compassion than I, my lady,” Blackwall said.
“He deserves a second chance. Everyone does.” she smiled hopefully. An expression flashed across Blackwall's face that Basya couldn't quite read. Varric left to go inform everyone of Basya’s consciousness and Dorian had to get more supplies from the Healer. Or so he claimed. Basya was pretty sure he didn’t. Blackwall leaned over and kissed her forehead. He let his lips linger for a long while. “You were really worried, huh?”
“Terrified. But it was less than a half hour after you passed out that Dorian said you’d be fine. That made it easier. And I assembled a new couch to pass the time,” He said. She smiled and laced her fingers in his.
“Thank you. Thank you for staying with me,”
“I’m just glad the boy told me.”
“Cole?”
“Yeah, he said you were hurt and - well he said you needed me. Cassandra and Cullen were talking in the courtyard on the way by. Cole was vague about the manor of injury just that someone hurt you, so I told them to come with me.”
“I told you he’d grow on you. He’s a really sweet kid.”
“I know. I have been harsh on Cole. I’ll try to be kinder to him. He really cares for you,”
“Can you help me up? I want to go get Fenris out of the dungeons.”
“Be careful, my lady,” He said. But she was a pretty good judge of her body. A little extra pain as she walked, but not too bad. If it was bad, she’d lay right back down. Basya had learned early on as a Princess, that you were no good to anyone by worsening an injury.
Fenris stood as Basya entered the dungeons, still using Blackwall’s arm as a support. She ordered the guards to open his cell. He looked at her with confusion.
“Varric tells me it is you who spared my life. After I hurt you?” He asked.
“I know nothing can ease the pain right now. But I can give you something to do if you want,” She said.
“In the Inquisition?” Fenris asked in surprise.
“You don’t have to. If not, you’re free to go.”
“What would it entail?”
“Varric said you like hunting Slavers. There are many Venatori Slavers that you could kill and free their captives,”
“Yes. I could do that.” He said. Basya nodded.
“Take your time in preparation to leave. I think you and Varric need each other’s company right now. He might smack you first though. Just a warning.” Basya turned to leave.
“Inquisitor,” She looked back over her shoulder. Fenris smiled softly. “Thank you.” Basya reciprocated the smile and Blackwall helped her up the stairs.