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The gardens at Skyhold were sparser and somehow harsher than usual. The bulk of the medicinal and alchemical herbs had been harvested prior to the assault on the Temple of Mythal, which left only the few decorative plants Elan couldn’t be dissuaded from planting. With vivid colors they dotted the raw ground and clung tenaciously to the trellises, defiant and incongruent in the morning light.
I smiled grimly despite myself. Even when I thought we’d given everything to defeat Corypheus, we still held something back, something to return to.
“Good morning, Inquisitor,” Morrigan’s slightly affected voice drew me from my contemplation and I turned to meet her eyes. “I trust you slept well without the threat of imminent death at your throat?”
In response, I stretched my back stiffly and winced at my accumulated aches. “It’s not the sleeping that’s hard, it’s the waking up.”
Smirking, she responded, “Luckily, you now have the promise of waking up for many days to come. But I doubt you have come here so early to rehash last night’s platitudes,” she concluded, inclining her head towards the gazebo.
We seated ourselves on the shaded bench, and I took a moment to collect myself. The witch hadn’t been with the Inquisition long, so although she had proven herself reliable and willing to assist, I wasn’t eager to burden her with my wishes for my people or with my selfish fears.
“First off, this is a request, not a demand. You’ve helped us a great deal and I know you have new demons to tackle. I would understand completely if you needed to leave and take some—“
Morrigan threw me a haughty glance under raised eyebrows. “Have it out: if I agree with what you’re asking, I will assist. Your diplomacy is only embarrassing us both.”
My begrudging laugh was abrupt. “At least that hasn’t changed. Very well: I need to know what you learned from the Well of Sorrows. What you learned about the vallaslin—“ her eyes cut a moment to my bare forehead, “—and what you learned of my people’s history.” I blinked quickly, overcome. Truly, I needed to know it all. My yearning was a hand clawing up my throat, desperate for answers and starved for the comfort of a grounded world. I needed to know that what Solas had done wasn’t the cruelest of lies, to rip me from my clan and heritage for no reason. I needed to learn something good, something true to take back to my clan. There had to be something to soothe the blow of all the lies I would reveal once I returned, to make them not hate me now that I was bare-faced, now that I had spent so much time among humans.
After a moment, she said, considering, “I suspect that you already know the truth of the vallaslin, else you would never have been rid of it.”
I caught my breath, anxious, at the knife’s edge of anticipation. She continued, “They were slave markings. In ancient Elvhenan, it was used to denote ownership.”
That same wave of revulsion crashed over me, this time tinged with sick relief that I had not been so fully duped. I let out a shaky breath.
It was a trial to meet her eyes again as I said, “Yes. Solas told me the night we returned from the Temple. He…removed them.” Instinctively, I ghosted my fingertips across my temple. It had become a rather bad habit.
“Did he? One wonders how he came upon that knowledge himself.”
Abruptly my back straightened and my eyebrows slashed down. “He would only say that he uncovered it in some text, translated by aid of his visits to the Fade.” I wouldn’t get the chance to ask him, at any rate. He couldn’t get what he wanted, so he left.
I shook my head slightly. “But to the other: Will you teach me? Help me read the ancient texts so I can share this with my clan, and prove to them how we were wrong?”
Her eyes narrowed as she considered me. I did not flinch, but met her eyes squarely. I knew my desperation was obvious, but I needed her to agree from a place of respect, not pity.
“The knowledge I gained is dangerous. It challenges not only Dalish tenets, but also the highest seats of power in Minrathous. If I teach you, and you share it with your clan, you—and they—will swiftly become a target. Is that a risk you are willing to take?”
I did not hesitate. “We must. For too long we’ve been clinging to half-truths and mis-remembered rituals, twisted from slave to slave over centuries. If I can bring the truth of our heritage back, we can unite our clans. With truth, I can show those of us in alienages and Circles and tiny human hamlets what we once were. It is a risk we have to take, or we—and all that we were—will continue to die.”
“I hope your victory has not made you naïve, Inquisitor.” Morrigan stood up and made to leave. At the archway, she looked back over her shoulder. The dawn light backlit her form and glinted in her eerily yellow eyes. She added, gravely, “But it is strength to find meaning in a fall. Yes, I will teach you.”
My answering grin was as much bite as smile.