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“Inquisitor!”
“Your Worship!”
“Boss!”
Ellana Lavellan didn’t even have time to scream before she was tumbling through the air, trying — and failing — to catch herself amongst the sliding and falling sand, plants, and small bits of rock around her, the dust in the air making it impossible for her to see and breathe.
On instinct, she threw out her hand, casting a wide barrier to not only protect herself from the impact, but to keep any falling debris from cracking apart and potentially impaling her with shrapnel.
That wouldn’t be good.
Faster than she would have liked, but slower than what should have been, she landed on the ground, a hard thud that was cushioned by her barrier but still knocked the wind out of her. She covered her head as the sand and rocks fell around her, but it seemed like her efforts paid off, and none impacted her, instead drifting off to the side as her magic repelled them.
As the world settled around her, she blinked, slowly, clearing away the dust that had coated her lashes before she remembered to use her magic, and stayed still as she attempted to catch her breath.
She wiggled her fingers and toes, but nothing seemed to be irreparably injured; just a few scrapes and bruises, and the gash in her left bicep from the Venatori’s knife she should have seen coming.
Damn ‘Vints.
“Your Worship?” a thin, rough voice said from somewhere to her right, coughing pretty severely.
She had to think too hard, but she finally placed who was speaking.
“Krem? ” she asked, making a concerted effort to sit up now. If someone fell with her, if they didn’t have her magic …
“Over here, Your Worship,” he said, a breathiness to his voice that she didn’t like.
She groaned as she moved onto all-fours, the slice in her arm protesting at the pressure she put on it, but she didn’t care. Krem was here … Krem was here. Was he hurt?
“Oh Creators, please don’t make him be hurt,” she prayed as she lifted her head, trying to spot his tell-tale reddish-brown armour through the dust.
There was light coming from … somewhere, but she couldn’t think about that too hard. Instead, she cast a dancing lights spell, illuminating the space around them, and —
There.
Lying on his back but propped up on an elbow was Krem, The Iron Bull’s second-in-command and right-hand man.
The man who she spent way too many nights in the Rest drinking with, and the man who she maybe, potentially, had a small crush on.
Which meant he very much shouldn’t be down this hole with her. And she’d literally never forgive herself if something happened to him.
“Krem, are you alright? What are you doing here?” she asked, crawling over to him and trying to inspect his injuries.
“I’m alright, just got my head knocked a bit and inhaled a bit too much sand for my liking. But Your Worship, are you hurt?” he asked, seemingly remembering what had happened.
Or, as much as they could determine what had happened.
“I’m fine, cast a barrier to cushion my fall, so the worst was prevented.” She tried to swallow, but a fine layer of sand coated her tongue.
“Ah, so that’s what it was. I felt something encompass me as I was falling. I thought maybe Dorian or Solas …” he trailed off then, and looked away from her. “I should have known it was you, Your Worship.”
Ellana tilted her head at that, considering. But she had cast her barrier on instinct, like she did in battle, when she was trying to cover as many of her companions as possible. It’d make sense that she did the same then, while they were falling.
“Lucky I was here then,” she quipped, smiling to try to put him at ease. She was still concerned he had hurt himself though. “Are you sure you’re alright? I think I have an elfroot potion left —”
He reached out and held onto her wrist, stopping her from grabbing the potion. It sent a thrill through her, but now was most definitely not the time to be thinking about that.
She went to say something, but she noticed his eyes had narrowed, and he was looking at the cut on her arm.
“You’re hurt.”
“No, I’m fine,” she attempted to wave his concern away, but as his hand was still holding onto her right wrist, she stupidly used her left arm, and couldn’t cover her wince at the pain.
“Your Worship,” he said the title quietly this time, and met her eyes with an intensity she had so rarely seen from him before.
“I … oh alright,” she said, pulling out the elfroot bottle. “But I insist we share it.”
“Your injuries —”
“Are no more severe than yours,” she said, eyeing the gash he had on his forehead. “And if you make some comment about how I’m more important than you are, I will smash this bottle and then we’ll both be out of luck, understood?”
She dropped her eyes to his gaze and was surprised to find a twinkle in them, and a small smile on his lips. “Yes, Your Worship.”
“Lavellan, please,” she said, unstoppering the bottle. “I’m nobody’s Chosen.”
Krem just smiled at her some more as he moved to push himself into a sitting position. He let out a slight groan, and didn’t object when she insisted he take his portion of the potion first.
There was something intimate about sharing a bottle like that, but she wouldn’t let herself think too closely on it.
Downing her half, she put the empty bottle back into her pouch, to be refilled when they returned to camp.
Wherever that was.
“Any idea where we are?” she asked, glancing around their surroundings fully for the first time since they, well, landed, for lack of a better term.
Krem took the time to look at where they were as well, and she noted the stone ground underneath the layers of sand and the faded pigments on the smooth walls.
This cavern was constructed, not natural.
“Dwarven ruins?” she murmured, more to herself than to him, but he nodded all the same.
“That’d make sense,” he said, taking the time to glance above them, and she followed his gaze. The way they came down was now blocked with stone and sand. “Aren’t The Hissing Wastes dotted with old dwarven constructs?” he asked.
It was her turn to nod. “They are. Which means if we keep following the path, there should eventually be an entrance we can use to reach the surface.”
“We …” he began, but paused, seeming to think better about what he was going to say.
“Please, Krem, speak your mind. I’m not too proud to admit I’m a bit out of my element here,” she assured him.
That seemed to do the trick. “I don’t mean to question your judgment,” he began, but at a warning look from her, he shot her a crooked smile and continued, “but shouldn’t we remain here? The chief and Seeker Pentaghast know where we are. Wouldn’t they be looking for us, here? If we leave …”
Ellana had to admit he had a valid point. Except …
“I don’t know what magic it was that caused that hole in the sand to form in the first place, but, more importantly, I don’t know what magic caused the hole to close. For all I know, the way we came through is now impossible to open, which means we would be staying down here for Creators-know how long while Bull and Cass try to figure it out. I do trust them to eventually find us, but I also don’t love just staying in one place. Not with the limited rations and water we have.”
Krem nodded again, his hand automatically going to his belt, where she knew his water pouch was secured. They all had extra rations of both food and drink because of the nature of the desert, but still. It wasn’t enough for more than a few days, and they were fairly far from their nearest camp.
“Are you feeling better?” she asked, herself rotating her left arm to check the elfroot potion’s effectiveness.
He appeared to do the same, stretching out his neck as he rolled his shoulders back. “Better, yes. Willing and able to follow your orders, Your Worship.”
She smiled, then stood up, extending an arm to help him up as well. After a moment’s hesitation, he took it, and she aided in his standing. But her strength was more than he must have expected, for he stumbled a bit as he rose, nearly knocking into her, but nevertheless coming face-to-face with her.
She couldn’t help it; her eyes immediately went to his mouth. She had dreamed about his lips for too long, wondering how they would feel on her, how a human would taste, how —
He cleared his throat and stepped back, and the rush of cool air that came between them didn’t do much to calm her flaming cheeks.
“Apologies, Your Worship,” he murmured, his eyes downcast. “The potion must have been more effective than I thought.”
“It is no problem,” she breathed, then wrenched her eyes upward, away from his tantalizing lips.
“So,” she said bracingly, trying to move past the moment. She was his superior, he literally called her “your worship.” There was no chance he would see her as anything more than something to be in awe of, and that was not someone she wanted to take to her bed.
That thought stopped her cold. Did she want to take Krem to her bed? She had thought she had just found him cute, fun to flirt with and match witty barbs with while drinking at the Rest.
She never thought she’d want anything serious with him.
But there was an intelligence there, a quiet surety that was masked behind deference and years of conditioning of hiding who he was, first as a soporati in Tevene society, then a slave, then a soldier who couldn’t live his truth.
He was a steady presence when all else around her was constant chaos, her rock in the ever eddying streams of life as the Inquisitor. She had come to rely on him much more than she had ever realized before this moment, and she wasn’t exactly sure what she wanted to do with that information.
“Your Worship?” she heard, as if from underwater. “Your Worship.” A bit more insistently. A tentative hand grabbed her forearm.
She blinked rapidly, brought out of her thoughts by Krem’s touch. Her eyes flicked to where his hand was, and he quickly withdrew it, as if he was afraid he was going to be reprimanded for touching her.
But no, that wasn’t — that was the furthest thing from what she wanted.
“Krem,” she began, but was interrupted by a sound of hissing that she could place in her sleep.
Giant spiders.
The Dread Wolf take them.
She palmed her staff, spinning it once like Dorian had taught her to prepare herself for their arrival.
She then glanced over at Krem. “Do you think you can handle this?” she asked, but he had already gotten his shield off of his back and drew his sword from his scabbard.
“Do we have a choice?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the shadows in front of him that she swore were moving.
“We could try to run for it,” she suggested, the two of them backing up simultaneously.
“And go where? We have no map of this place; as far as we know, we could be running straight into their nest, or into a dead end, or into something worse. No, it’s better if we stay and fight. Your Worship,” he added, cutting a quick glance to her.
She cast a barrier over the both of them, then downed a mana potion. She was tired, and sore, and hadn’t had a chance to rest. The potion would give her the necessary energy boost she needed to hopefully win the day.
He eyed her as she took the potion, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he just regripped his sword and lifted his shield slightly higher. “Here they come,” he whispered, and she could see the dark black masses separating slightly from the deeper black of the shadowed corridor.
“Ready?” she asked, blood humming with lyrium.
Krem just nodded, and held, waiting for them to come to him. His composure was impeccable, but she expected nothing less from the person hand-picked to lead the Chargers in Bull’s stead, whenever he needed to be away.
She made the first move, having the distance with her magic, and swung a fire spell at the closest spider, causing it to shriek and scream as it burned. She cast crushing prison on the second, and then froze a third with an ice spell she had recently picked up from Vivienne.
But there were a good dozen of them, coming at them in that scuttling way that sometimes invaded her nightmares. There was no way she’d be able to hold them all off, no matter how much lyrium was flowing through her.
She spared one glance for Krem when the first spider engaged, but he cut it down quickly, only for it to be replaced with another, which he bashed with his shield and pushed back, giving him room to swing.
Her focus on him, though, let another get too close to her, and its bristled leg touched her before she was able to shove it back with a force spell and then cast chain lightning on it, causing it to twitch and convulse.
“Gross,” she muttered, as she focused on the one coming next.
It seemed like they were never-ending. She launched spell after spell, ranging through the different ones she knew, trying to freeze, burn, and shock the spiders as much as possible. She also maintained a barrier over her and Krem, reupping it whenever she felt it begin to fade.
But she was getting tired, and her spells were becoming less effective, meaning she had to cast multiple in order to take down one spider.
She cut a quick glance at Krem, who seemed to be holding up okay, no sign of his previous injuries limiting him.
Except — “On your left!” she called, his flank slightly exposed as he was trying to withdraw his sword from the eyes of one he just killed.
He whirled but the spider was on him in an instant, hissing and spitting at him and backing him against the wall so he had no form of retreat. She wanted to set it on fire, but she was worried about hitting Krem …
Instead, she gave up her safe position of distance fighting and conjured her enchanted blade, gripping it tightly as she ran to him, flanking the spider and stabbing it in the side and distracting it, allowing Krem to duck under its pincers and attack it from the other side, finally having the room to maneuver.
She let out a small sigh of relief at his relative safety, then turned, wondering where the next attack would come from, but she didn’t see anything.
Maybe they had finally —
“Your Worship!” he called from far away, as she had yet another sensation of falling, only this time it was over in a second and she impacted the ground, hard, though her barrier was still up and cushioned most of it.
However, it was failing, and she couldn’t get her arms up to cast it again, because she had been knocked down and pinned by one of the giant creatures.
Thankfully, she had already conjured her sword.
She flexed her wrist, bringing the sword up and into the spider’s abdomen, slicing into it as she did so. When her blade was perpendicular to the ground and she was able to get enough force behind it, she pushed, and she felt the spider’s exoskeleton give way as she stabbed further into its body. It screamed in pain, and she shuddered as she felt its warm, hot blood gush down her hand and arm. But she ignored it, dragging the sword up farther, into its thorax. As she reached its sternum area, it shuddered, then collapsed above her.
“Your Worship!” Krem called, though his voice was muffled by the large body of the dead spider splayed on top of her.
“Gross, gross, gross, gross,” she thought, attempting to wiggle out from under it. But it was too heavy.
Suddenly, the weight lifted away, and Krem’s face came into view, spattered in blood but otherwise whole and unharmed, except for the gash he suffered earlier that day.
“Your Worship, are you alright?”
“Gross,” she said, shaking her hand to try to get some of the blood off as the spirit blade disintegrated back into the Fade.
“Thank you for your assistance,” he said, reaching out a hand to help her up. She did, but it was her turn to be pulled too far and stumble into him. But he just caught her around the waist, holding her steady.
“Your Worship, are you truly alright?” he asked.
Suddenly, she felt a throbbing in her shoulder, and she looked to her left, where she saw a puncture wound that was mixed with some blood.
She felt herself sway, then everything went dark.
She awoke to the sound of arguing voices; though they were hushed, their urgency seemed to stir her awake.
“She needs to go back to Skyhold,” someone was saying. Was that Varric?
“I am perfectly capable of taking care of her,” another — Dorian, she thought — was saying. “I have plenty of healing experience, and with Bull’s expertise in poisons, we’ll be perfectly fine addressing her concerns here.”
Bull — his timbre was too distinct to not recognize — murmured something too quiet for her to pick up, but when Dorian spoke again, his tone was softer, more mollified.
“We’re far from Skyhold, and the journey isn’t easy. And we haven’t accomplished whatever it is the Inquisitor wanted to do. If we brought her back without her consent, we’d never hear the end of it from her.”
“She won’t be able to ream us out if she’s dead,” Varric practically shouted, and she decided then that she should probably say something before things got out of hand.
“Not dead,” she murmured, though her mouth felt like sand and her eyes seemed to be glued shut.
The voices stopped speaking immediately.
“Inquisitor?” Dorian’s voice was closer now, gentler. A cool cloth was placed over her forehead and she groaned at the sweet sensation.
Belatedly, she realized they were waiting for her to respond. “Mhm,” she said, attempting to open her eyes. It took her far too long, but she finally managed it.
She immediately saw Dorian, a small smile on his face as he hovered over her, pressing the cloth to her. Glancing to the other side, she saw Varric, his expression so worried she felt the need to reach out and cup his cheek.
“‘M fine,” she reassured him, and he smiled, though she could have sworn his eyes were glassy with unshed tears.
She looked toward the end of her cot and saw Bull, who was leaning against one of the poles that held up the tent they were all in. He had his usual blank expression, but there was something in his eye …
Suddenly, she remembered.
“Krem,” she said with a gasp, and attempted to sit up, to find him.
“Whoa there,” Varric said, and he gingerly pushed her back down, with Dorian pressing more firmly on her forehead to also insist she lie back down. “Just where do you think you’re going?”
But she had no eyes for anybody but Bull, anybody but Krem’s best friend. If something had happened to him, Bull would know, Bull would tell her. But he’d also be upset …
“He’s waiting outside,” Bull spoke quietly. “Thought it a bit crowded in here.”
She felt the tension go out of her body as she sunk into the pillows. He was safe. He was safe.
And so was she.
“What happened?” she asked, looking at all three of her companions in turn. But Varric just shook his head.
“We don’t know. We tried to get him to tell us, but he just …”
“He told us what we needed to know,” Dorian assured her, now wiping her neck with the cloth. Creators, that felt nice. “Giant spider, fang puncture, poison. We’re not quite sure how he got back.”
“He’s in shock,” Bull added, but not with any malice in his voice. “I think he thought he killed you.”
She shook her head, and the action made her head spin, but she knew she had to set the record straight, had to clear his conscience.
“How long?” she asked.
“Two days,” Dorian grimaced, and she hissed.
Two days?
“You arrived back at camp with dear Krem after about 12 hours of being missing. We had … we tried, Inquisitor. But the magic —”
“I know,” she said, and covered Dorian’s free hand with her own. “I felt it, too. I knew it was impossible to break through. We need to study that,” she added, and Dorian smiled.
“Solas has already taken the opportunity to begin recording the information, and I plan to join him, once I made sure you no longer needed my services.”
She nodded, and the movement hurt a bit less. “Can I see him?” she asked, looking to Bull.
“Solas?” Dorian asked, but Bull shook his head.
“I’ll get him. But, Boss, you sure you’re okay?”
She nodded again, and sat up once more, a bit slower this time. Though Varric and Dorian still objected, she waved them away, and managed to get into a sort of reclined position.
“I’ll be fine. Now, please. I appreciate you all immensely, but I need to speak to him. Alone, please.”
Dorian and Varric looked at her then, but agreed after she met each of their gazes in turn. Bull, for his part, gave her a small smile, then exited the tent.
After her two other companions took their leave, she only had to wait a moment before Krem came inside. He was dressed down, in just a shirt and breeches, a bandage on his forehead and over his forearm.
“You’re hurt,” she said by way of greeting, and he laughed.
“Only you would inquire after my injuries, having just woken up from a coma,” he said. And though there was a smile on his face, she could see the shadows of worry in his eyes.
She patted the cot, scooting over a bit to make room for him. “Come, sit with me a moment.”
“Your Worship —” he began, clasping his hands behind his back.
“Krem, please,” she said, and he hesitated, just a moment, before crossing the few steps from the tent’s entrance to where her cot was, and sat. He was perched on the edge, but, at least he sat.
“Thank you,” she murmured, taking one of his hands in both of hers. His eyes snapped to where they were now touching.
“I’m sorry,” he said, instead of accepting her thanks. “I should have been faster, I should have protected you, that was my job, I should have —”
“Krem,” she interrupted, squeezing his hand as she did so. “Thank you.”
He met her eyes then, swallowing noticeably. “I … yeah. You’re welcome, Your Worship.”
“Ellana, please,” she said with a smile.
“What?” he breathed, eyebrows furrowing.
“I would like you to call me Ellana when we’re in private,” she explained.
“Your Worship —” she squeezed his hand again, and he corrected himself. “El — Ellana. I … why? ”
“Because you saved my life,” she said simply. He opened his mouth to probably argue, but she continued. “And I like you.”
His mouth snapped shut at her words.
“I know it’s inappropriate, and I know I shouldn’t, and I know —”
“Wait,” he said, his turn to interrupt her it seemed. “You like me?”
She nodded, a blush creeping up her cheeks, she could tell. “I do. I was … I was going to kiss you, before the spiders attacked. At least, I wanted to kiss you. Very badly. But I wasn’t sure —”
Her words were cut off by a hand on her face, thumb on her cheekbone and fingers splaying behind her ear and around her head, and a pressure pulling her toward Krem’s waiting lips.
When they touched, it was like the world exploded around her. She melted into the embrace as much as she could, letting her mouth fall open and giving him access, his tongue sweeping in and claiming what she freely gave. He scooted imperceptibly closer to her, and she sat up a bit further, grabbing his shirt with her free hand and anchoring him to her in a way that was desperate to not let him go.
He tasted … spicier, than any man she had kissed before, though there was an undercurrent of elfroot that reminded her of his injuries, of his potential hurts.
But then he pressed his weight forward, and she leaned back against the pillows, and she forgot all of her concerns, all of her worries or fears. Her world view narrowed onto that one moment, his essence surrounding her, comforting her, enveloping her in a way that made her feel safer than she ever had.
He moved the hand that she was still holding so he could grasp her face fully, and he tilted her head just so, in a way that made her toes curl and a bolt of electricity to shoot through her.
She moaned softly, and the sound embarrassed her so much that she broke off the kiss, just slightly, though she reached up to keep his hands on her face. She opened her eyes and met his gaze, which seemed to be searching her face for … her approval? Her distaste? Her rejection?
“Krem …” she began, and he bit his lip, nervousness evident in his every feature.
“No,” she reassured him, smiling and kissing him swiftly. “I just … I want to make sure you’re okay with this. I want to make sure you don’t feel … pressured to do anything, because I’m, well, me.”
He chuckled then, a low, rough sound that tightened every muscle in her body in the most pleasurable way.
“Your Wor — Ellana,” he corrected himself. “I have been dreaming of this moment since you first joined the Chargers for drinks all those months ago. You are intoxicating to be around, not just because of what your title is, but who you are underneath everything. The same sweet, caring person who worries more about the safety of her horses than her own well-being. You are selfless, and kind, and smart, and so powerful … I would be a fool to not fall for you.”
She looked up at him then, through her lashes, and marveled at the man above her, quiet steel wrapped in silk. “I envy you,” she murmured, and he expressed shock at such a revelation. “I envy your confidence, your skills, and your ability to make me laugh any time, even if I’ve had a bad day. That, alone, is what made me fall for you, I think. That, and you seem to see me, underneath all the pomp and ceremony. No matter what you insist on calling me.”
She smiled then, and Krem descended upon her, peppering her face with kisses, before capturing her mouth again in a searing embrace that left her completely breathless.
And when he worked his way down her body, leaving a scorching line of heat in his wake, she almost burst into flames. He lavished attention on her in ways she had never felt before, and it was all she could do to not rip off his clothes, then and there.
But they were both injured, and she had just woken up from being poisoned, and she didn’t want their … activities to be heard by those standing right outside the tent, which she knew Dorian, Bull, and Varric were doing.
It was bad enough Bull could probably smell them.
She pulled Krem’s face back up to hers and met his mouth for another breathtaking embrace, before murmuring against his neck. “We’re both still healing,” she said, though she had to moan as he ghosted his breath over the sensitive tip of her ear. “We should stop.”
“That’d be nice,” Bull called from beyond the tent flap, and Krem collapsed on top of her, his face bright red, burying it into her non-injured shoulder. “If it went any further, Dorian would have barged in there, citing medical reasons why you needed to slow it down.”
“I would not have!” she heard Dorian say in his most scandalized voice.
“Yeah, yeah,” Bull said, poking his head into the tent. “I’m serious though; that poison’s no joke, so don’t push it too hard.” He paused as his eye drifted over their position, Krem’s body still hovered over hers.
He then gestured between the two of them. “Glad this came to pass, though sad you almost had to die for it to happen. Can’t wait to tease the fuck outta you about it though,” he grinned, and she almost threw something at him, but he ducked out at that point.
Krem’s face was still red, but he was smiling ear to ear, and she had to admit, she was feeling the same.
“I’m glad it came to pass, too,” she said. “Though I still hate spiders.” And she knew that Krem’s laugh would keep her warm for many nights to come.