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The flute was an old, worn thing, made by her, back then clumsy, child’s fingers from the pale, wind smoothed bark of an old, fallen tree, a simple thing without ornaments - and yet, it has survived the months and years, safe in her pocket.
She often trailed its rough suface absent-mindedly, a nervous habit she adopted whenever her mind wandered. It was more than just a sentimental trifle from her childhood- Dalish rarely kept those, as their frequent travels didn’t allow them, or the aravels, to carry an abundance of impractical, unnecessary things.
It’s not why I kept it...
The flute looked even smaller in Cole’s pale fingers, as he stared at it so intently she wanted to laugh.
The two of them were sitting high on the battlements of Skyhold, a rare quiet spot, away from the day-to-day bustle, even during the day. She frequently found Cole here, simply looking down at people pouring in and out through the main gate, the soldiers training in the yard, servants hurrying to the kitchen with baskets of fruits and vegetables, pack brontos and their handlers unloading nails, planks and cloths for repairs; more often in the last weeks.
Denari thought that being seen and remembered by so many people after such a long time of being practically a ghost must have been overwhelming for the boy and that was why he enjoyed solitude, but Cole assured her, that he simply liked it here.
Well, he is right in one thing- the view is spectacular.
The night was eerily quiet, even more so in the mountains, underneath the overcast sky hanging over the stronghold. The courtyard was dark and empty, the stone walls completely hidden in shadows- only a few yellowy dots of candlelight flickered in two or three windows. Cold wind chilled her bare hands, but it was pleasant- scorch marks left from the last battle were still sore and caused her pain and discomfort each time she clenched her fists.
„I just noticed you were admiring the bard playing in Val Royeaux the other day, so I thought, well, maybe you’d like to learn how to play yourself? Just something to pass time with.“
Cole nodded slightly, a faint smile, almost invisible, brightened his face.
„It reminded me of home“ Cole muttered.
„Home?“
„Not mine, but somebody else’s. Soft, soothing, serene, a flicker of flames in the hearth, hearts reunited, the end of a long journey.“
He told her something similar back in the city. Denari was surprised, of course, seeing as the lyrics were sung in orlais, to her ears especially foreign sounding language, equally pompous and complicated, at times resembling chirping of a bird, especially when spoken in haste- but perhaps Cole understood speech differently than others, maybe he saw the language simply as a conduit of thoughts and emotions.
Sometimes, it was difficult to tell what exactly was the boy thinking, but it was certainly quite apparent whenever something caught his attention. Said bard was a pretty, young woman with long auburn hair, rosy cheeks and a voice that sounded like thousands of little glass bells in the wind- Cole was humming the melody of the bard’s song and smiling to himself all the way up to Skyhold for so long, Sera managed to create her own version of lyrics, that involved Denerim’s brothel, dwarven ale, and an overly detailed description of multiple uses of a yoke.
Worst of all, the tune was catchy and some of the Inquisition soldiers soon began to repeat it after Sera and, according to scout Harding, began to use the song as a marching chant, to Cullen’s enormous distress, matched only by Sera’s uncontained joy.
Denari shook her head, suppressing smile, trying to recall the name of the tune, but it eluded her.
It might’ve had some complicated Orlesian name, but it was well-known, or at least known enough to be heard in many corners of Thedas, and for its melody to be stuck in her mind.
„You're right. It does tell a similar story. I don’t remember its name, but I think it’s a tale about a soldier returning home after long years of war“, she recalled staring off into the distant mountains, remembering fragments of lyrics, as Cole kept studying the old flute.
„The details vary- in some versions, he finds his homeland broken by the violence and famine, the fields barren and villages burnt to ash, but his wife is still there waiting for him. In others, he finds out, that the love of his life has been murdered by robbers, even though the village, and his house, were left intact. Either way, in each version of the song...“
„...he lost a different home“ Cole finished her sentence in a hushed voice, his expression never changing. She was taken aback for a split second, but quickly readjusted- she should, after all, be already used to Cole’s, sometimes borderline disturbing ability to read streams of thoughts as they flew through people’s minds.
It was similar to...talking to the voice in your head, while simultaneously talking to another person, which was mildly confusing at best, terrifying at worst.
Or was it his own thought? she wondered
Is he truly becoming human and is this merely his way of interacting?
Throughout the last few months, Cole did show more and more small signs of change- he slowly began to feel peckish at the sight of food (especially sweets), he has been seen yawning- a sign of fatigue perhaps, and, most frequent of all, everyone in Skyhold began to notice the pale boy more and more.
Varric woud be pleased to see it.
He was, indeed, acting almost fatherly towards Cole, scolding Iron Bull whenever he used especially overblown insults around the boy, and he did try to appease Sera's intense hatred, or rather, her fear, of him. She still remembered the day Varric left for Kirkwall, as he promised- it was apparent he was eager to help wherever he could, and for the moment, he was needed in Free Marches.
„I received word from Aveline, Starkhaven's forces are tightening their grip on the walls and the outer area- only those, as it would seem“ he grinned to himself, as they were standing near the massive gate at the end of Skyhold's access bridge. As an honored member of the Inquisition, he had a whole enclave of honor guard with him, waiting to escort him as far as they could. They were „officially“ ordered to return to Skyhold once Varric has succesfully reached his destination, but Denari knew Cullen secretly told them to remain and help him in his efforts.
„I must admit I initially suspected Choir boy to be all bark no bite, but it seems I'm slowly growing into an optimist“
„The horror“, she smirked, but quickly remembered how the dire the situation very well could have been- Varric's tired expression confirmed as much.
„The Inquisition formally declined Starkhaven's offer to, quote, „join forces in annexing Kirkwall to Starkhaven in and effort to hasten the search of a dangerous fugitive from justice“.
Still, it can't officially declare support for the region under siege, as of yet...but it can extend a helping hand, and send some supplies.“
„Look at you, all diplomatic and official sounding“ Varric laughed and she couldn't help but feel a bit embarassed.
„Seems like I can see Josephine's point of view rubbing of on you. I know and I appreciate it. They are holding up, but no wall can hold out forever- this metaphor takes on a whole new level of meaning, once you add trebuchets to the equation. Our dear prince may not have much military expertise, but numbers are often enough to make a dent.“
„Will you really be alright?“ Lavellan asked cautiously, as Varric checked the luggage for anything he may have missed. He turned around with big, reassuring smile.
„Are you kidding? Everyone is fussing over me so much I'll be lucky if I don't bump into one of Leliana's people everytime I turn around a corner. Don't you worry about me, you have enough on your plate for now“
She nodded solemnly. Varric's presence always felt like...stability, throughout the turbulent events Inquisition had to deal with- even after Hawke's death, a stability, she realised, desperately needed. Indecision and despair crept up on her more and more often and keeping her facade intact became almost impossible. The court must have noticed, she thought. Everyone must have seen that she was falling apart.
Nightmares became her constant companion.
Suddenly, she felt rough leather gloves on her skin, as Varric took her hand and firmly grasped it, while looking at her with so much understanding and care it almost made her tear up.But she managed to keep what little dignity remained in front of Varric’s escort.
„Just try to forget all about him. A man that feels he doesn't owe anyone an explanation of his actions to anyone often hurts without care, or realising- a bad sign that can negate even the noblest of causes“
„I...“ she muttered, unsure of what to respond- if she even could. His direct support surprised her, as did his sudden seriousness, after weeks of everyone, save for Leliana and Sera, tiptoing around her like she would suddenly drop on the ground from grief if they so much as mentioned Solas in front of her. It made her angry- was she not their leader? Did she not go through so much and survived every time? Did they think of her as some feeble-minded maiden who somehow lost her mind to broken heart?
She simply needed some time- but time was a luxury she could not afford. So the anger festered inside her and she was increasingly worried it was making her more and more paranoid and suspiscious- even of those closest to her.
„You'll be alright, Inquisitor. I know you will“
Denari thought about his words. A lot.In time, she even understood and accepted them. The world kept moving, in spite of every earth shattering event preceding this relative calm after storm, and they did as well, like cogs in a machine. She began to see everyone's careful demeanor as an act of compassion, not avoidance. They saw her as a person, not a symbol, which was probably a good thing.
And she tried to let go. She was needed here, after all. All of her. Without any distractions.
„...it's not playing“ Cole suddenly muttered.
„What do you mean, it's not playing?“
„The flute! There's music in it, but when I want it to play, it doesn't“ Cole sounded genuinely frustrated, glaring at the piece of wood as if the innocent instrument offended him.
Lavellan began to laugh- for the first time in what seemed like forever. The sound pierced the quiet and spooked some ravens nesting on the battlements. They took off with loud cawing which sounded like protesting, black smudges against the dark sky.
„I’m sorry Cole“ she apologized, wiping tears of both laughter and cold from the corners of her eyes.
„You need to...to make it play. You need to hold it, like this“ she took the flute of his hands, breathed in and played a simple four-toned melody.
„See?“
Cole looked up, his eyes widened in sudden realisation. He slowly took the flute back from her hands, closed his eyes and...
He started to play. To actually play, with seemingly no explanation, a melody that made her heart skip a beat- this was not the song from Val Royeaux. It was simple and sweet and full of memories, of wind in the trees, flames flickering in the campfire, illuminating familiar faces, a simpler time. It took her mind so many years back so fast, she almost physically felt the strings pulling her through time.
Then, the music stopped.
„The flute it...it remembered this song. It wanted to play this song“ Cole said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
„It wanted to...?“
The lyrics came to her mind like a slim thread of scented smoke:
lath sulevin
lath araval ena
arla ven tu vir mahvir
melana ‘nehn
enasal ir sa lethalin
„Be certain in need, and the path will emerge, to a home tomorrow, and time will again be the joy it once was“ she whispered, as if in a dream. The quiet now felt unnatural and ominous. She was in a haste to break it.
„The song it...it was sung to me by my mother when I still lived with the Dalish“ she continued, uncertain whether she was talking to Cole, or just herself- smiling, as she remembered the woman with kind, brown eyes and hair that always carried the scent of dried lavender.
„It speaks of sorrow of our lost homeland, but she always said that every loss, be it as small as it may, tears a piece of us and carries it away...“
„The song made you hurt, but the tangle is gone, it can flow freely now“ Cole said, reverting to his usual manner of speech. Just then, she realised there were tears streaming down her face. It was a surprisingly liberating feeling. To just...let go.
„So you did it on purpose“ Lavellan asked, smiling despite the tears, wiping them with her sleeve.
„No?“
„Was that a question?“
„I don’t...know?“
She just shook her head, still smiling. The tears replaced the starry sky with a myriad of reflected lights. She has never felt so light and carefree.
A silent farewell sent into the night, hoping to find its recipient nearly escaped her lips. But instead, she turned to the pale boy sitting next to her.
„Thank you, Cole“
Then there was only silence.