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Her first instinct had been to banish Solas from Skyhold, but that would have been childish. No one should know of her pain, Inquisitor Lavellan thought resolutely. There were, after all, greater things at stake than a broken heart. She must stay strong, and unerringly guide the Inquisition to victory.
“Inquisitor, I wanted to ask you—”
“I’M FINE, CASSANDRA.”
“Er, yes, all right. I have a question regarding these reports on Venatori activity.”
“KILL THEM. KILL THEM ALL.”
“Are you sure that’s wise? We could capture a few for questioning.”
“THEY’LL PROBABLY JUST SAY THEY DIDN’T HAVE ANY CHOICE AND IT’S FOR THE BEST, WITHOUT GIVING ANY REAL EXPLANATION AS TO WHY THEY HURT US. THOSE LYING APOSTATE BASTARDS.”
“Then, I shall inform Leliana of your decision.”
Cassandra edged away, leaving Lavellan in front of the training dummy she had been pummeling before Cassandra had interrupted her. The Inquisitor resumed her fighting stance, and began striking the dummy in its face.
“Inquisitor?”
Josephine glided toward her, daintily skirting puddles. “Inquisitor, your presence is requested in the throne room.”
“WELL WE CAN’T ALWAYS HAVE EVERYTHING WE WANT, CAN WE.”
“You know, I’m surprised you even know how to throw a punch. Your arms are like twigs,” said The Iron Bull, who had appeared in the training yard in Cassandra’s wake. A battle axe was slung was casually across his shoulder, as if it were a sweater.
“OF COURSE I KNOW HOW TO PUNCH,” Lavellan growled. She had not bothered to wrap her hands, and her knuckles were becoming bruised and bloody from repeated blows.
“Most mages don’t. They just burn it with fire and call it a day.”
“NOT DALISH MAGES. DALISH MAGES WILL CUT YOU WITH IRON BARK BLADES.”
“Hey, Boss, I have nothing but respect for the Dalish. They’ve been through a lot.”
“APPARENTLY NOT ENOUGH, AS FAR AS SOME PEOPLE ARE CONCERNED.”
“Iron Bull, what are you doing?” hissed Josephine. “Don’t encourage her.”
“Nah, it’ll be all right. She needs this.”
Lavellan screamed, a harsh guttural noise that would have sounded more natural coming from a Greater Terror. There was a flash of green light as the Inquisitor used the Anchor to rend a tear in the fabric of reality. The release of magical energy obliterated the entire squadron of training dummies, and a good chunk of the stairwell and storehouse behind them. The building’s occupants seemed surprised at the sudden renovations, but otherwise unharmed.
“Haha, yeah Inquisitor, blow him into little elfy bits!” cheered Sera from an upstairs window.
“The mortar had just dried on those stairs,” Josephine murmured, as she scribbled a note to allot a larger portion of the Inquisition budget to training dummies.
Without another word, the Inquisitor turned on her heel and stomped toward the Skyhold throne room. Josephine hurried after her. Iron Bull watched as wisps of charred dummy wafted back down, some of them still gently aflame. “Mages. It always ends with fire,” he said.
***
“BRING FORTH THE PRISONER,” thundered the Inquisitor, her voice echoing through the hall. If her exertions in the training yard had fatigued her, it didn’t show.
A pair of guards dragged in a pale, gaunt man with burning eyes.
“Forgive me, Inquisitor. I will act today in Josephine’s stead,” said Commander Cullen. He recited the litany of the prisoner’s sins. “Knight Templar Samson, general to Corypheus, traitor to the Order.”
“YOU ADMIT THAT YOU DELIBERATELY MISLED THE TEMPLARS,” roared Lavellan.
“I gave them hope where they had none,” replied Samson.
“YOU THINK YOU WERE TRYING TO PROTECT THEIR FEELINGS, BUT DID IT EVER OCCUR TO YOU THAT YOU PROBABLY MADE THINGS WORSE? THEY TRUSTED YOU, THEY GAVE THEIR HEARTS TO YOU, AND THEN YOU TAKE THEM OUT INTO THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE AND ABANDON THEM. THEY TELL YOU THEY LOVE YOU, AND YOU JUST LEAVE.”
“Inquisitor, that’s not exactly what happened...” Cullen started, but Lavellan waved him away.
She considered Samson carefully. “YOU CAN STILL BE OF USE TO US,” she said, jabbing at him viciously with her finger. “MY ARCANIST WILL STUDY YOUR RESISTANCE TO RED LYRIUM.” Out of the corner of her eye, Lavellan saw Solas—who was standing in the shadows of a doorway near the back of the room—nod with approval.
“WAIT, NO,” she called, halting the guards who were preparing to escort Samson away. “THAT IS A TERRIBLE IDEA. WE SHOULD DO SOMETHING ELSE.”
“Inquisitor?”
“MAYBE WE SHOULD JUST EXILE HIM TO THE WILDERNESS INSTEAD.” She glanced at Solas; his brow furrowed with displeasure. “YES, DO THAT. OFF YOU GO, SAMMY BOY. TRY NOT TO GET EATEN BY A BEAR.”
***
After delivering her judgment, Lavellan retired to her chambers. There, placed neatly on her pillow was a small effigy of a bald elf wearing a tiny sweater. Next to it was a note wrapped around a bundle of pins. The note—signed only “M.”—offered creative suggestions for placement of the pins in the doll.
“There you are, my dear. I’ve been meaning to speak with you.”
Lavellan squinted at Vivienne. “OF COURSE I’M HERE. THIS IS MY ROOM,” she pointed out.
“Indeed. There’s no need to shout, my dear.”
“I AM NOT SHOUTING. THIS IS MY NORMAL VOICE. I SPEAK IN COMMANDING TONES. THAT IS WHY OUR ENEMIES COWER BEFORE ME.”
“Inquisitor, there comes a time in every young mage’s life when he or she is tempted to use blood magic for…reasons of the heart. I just wanted to remind you that blood magic is never the answer to our problems, no matter how appealing…”
“Bullocks to that!” cried Dorian, bursting in from the corridor, where he had clearly been eavesdropping.
“Dorian!” Vivienne scolded.
“Hear me out. It’s not really blood magic, anyway. It’s more like…well, look, you don’t have to sacrifice anybody. And the results are so delightful! Just a few minor scratches and you can permanently shrivel someone’s—”
“If that’s your goal, there’s no need to consort with demons when a few well aimed frost spells will suffice,” Vivienne broke in.
“In your pants shall burn an unquenchable flame,” Dorian intoned. “Think about it.”
“I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY EITHER OF YOU THINK I’M GOING TO TURN TO BLOOD MAGIC.”
“Just trying to help, darling. I know you’re upset.”
Lavellan glowered at her. “WHY WOULD I BE UPSET?”
“Why, because of Solas, of course.”
“Definitely Solas,” said Dorian.
“I wasn’t going to say anything, but yeah, Solas,” said Varric.
“WAIT, VARRIC, WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?”
“I came to see what all the shouting was about.”
“Liar, you were listening at the door,” accused Dorian.
“I had to get in line behind you,” retorted Varric.
Vivienne rolled her eyes. “Darling, it’s obvious you’re going through a difficult time. This sort of thing happens to everybody. Well, not to me—who would ever desert me?”
“I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT.”
“You know, Solas. You two were together.” Dorian made a lewd gesture. “And now, not so much.” He let his hands fall limply to his sides.
“WHO?”
“Solas. Elf-type, pointy ears, bald as an egg, talks about the Fade a lot? Used to accompany us on our travels?” offered Varric.
“OH. HIM. I HAD FORGOTTEN ABOUT HIM. IS HE STILL LURKING IN HIS STUPID LITTLE ROOM MAKING HIS STUPID LITTLE FINGERPAINTINGS? I WOULDN’T KNOW, I THINK OF NOTHING BUT DEFEATING CORYPHEUS.”
“Right,” said Dorian. “Well, I’ll just leave my notes on the just-a-scratch magic here for your perusal. You know, in case.”
“Inquisitor, I really must insist that you let me have those,” protested Vivienne.
“ALL OF YOU, OUT. I HAVE TO PLOT THE DEMISE OF CORYPHEUS SOME MORE,” said Lavellan, ushering them towards the door, and surreptitiously pocketing Dorian's sheaf of papers.
Varric was the last one to leave. “You know, Inquisitor,” he said. “You don’t always need weapons or magic to hurt somebody. Next time you see Solas, stare at a spot on his face. Nod along with whatever he is saying, and just continue to stare at that one spot. Try to look intrigued, amazed, and disgusted all at once. Maybe reach towards him in horrified fascination and then catch yourself and recoil. If he asks—which he won’t—you swear that nothing is wrong.”
“I AM THE INQUISITOR,” Lavellan said, seemingly as much as herself as to him.
“You are, but you’re also a person. You’re allowed to be angry.”
“I AM ANGRY.”
“Admitting it is the first step.”
“ANGRY WITH CORYPHEUS. NOW PACK YOUR BAGS. WE ARE GOING TO EMPRISE DU LION. I AM TOLD THERE IS MUCH THERE IN NEED OF SMASHING. I MEAN SAVING. TELL CASSANDRA AND DORIAN TO PREPARE AS WELL.”
“So, Solas won’t be coming?”
“HE IS BUSY.”
“It’s just…usually Solas accompanies us.”
“DO YOU HAVE SOMETHING AGAINST DORIAN? DORIAN IS MY BEST MAGE FRIEND. ALSO HE GIVES VERY GOOD HAIR ADVICE, UNLIKE SOME PEOPLE WHO DON’T EVEN HAVE HAIR.”
Varric gave up and left her alone. On the plus side, he was no longer afraid of the outcome of their final battle; the Darkspawn Magister and his demon dragon wouldn’t stand a chance.