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There was one incident on the road, just under a week travel away from the base camp in the Hinterlands. The first few weeks had been uneventful, but the second they rounded the last bend of Lake Calenhad, a random encounter with some mages and templars escalated.
“They’re not supposed to be this far west! Leliana’s men had reported the fighting didn’t go further north than Redcliffe,” Cassandra shouted out as she drove her sword into the back of a angered Templar. Really, they had given warnings to each party, but they ended up in the thick of the fight anyway.
“Next time,” An’aris grunts, pulling a dagger out of the fleshy side of a mage, “Let’s pay closer attention to the sounds the road makes, hm?” She couldn’t help but think back to just moments before they encountered the fight. Cassandra had hastily ascended the hill in front of them, ignoring the protests of An’aris behind her. This was preventable, she thought.
“We cannot afford any detours!” Cassandra called back. Solas appeared behind Cassandra, and she saw a flash of light before the familiar sensation of Solas shielding her washed over her. Out of the corner of her eye she watched as a Templar drew his attention away from her, blocking the soldier’s sword with his staff.
Left, right, step, dodge, thrust! There was a rhythm to fighting. A dance that most soldiers paid little attention to. They had the rhythm down, they were taught likely from the time they were able to hold a sword, but she looked for the cracks. The small signs of exhaustion in the way soldiers carried themselves. She was much smaller than them, but she was faster.
His sword came up, wait, she watched as his grip tightened, ready to jump out of the way at the last second. The solder swings—“An’aris!” Cassandra’s voice breaks her concentration. She turned to look toward where she heard Cassandra’s voice from, only to be met with the metal pommel of a sword.
Darkness.
She startled awake with a gasp, only to be met with an immediate throbbing of her head. “You’re awake,” a voice whispered beside her. A hand rests gently on her shoulder, pushing her back down to the bedroll beneath her. Solas lifted a small bowl to her lips. “Drink, it’s just water,” he orders. There was a softness to him that she had yet to see, his shoulders were tense, and she could hear arguing outside of the tent between Varric and Casandra, but he was here, forcing her to lay down and drink water.
“What happened?” She croaked, before clearing her throat and taking the bowl offered to her, allowing Solas to lift her head up to bring her lips to the bowl to drink.
“It seems as though the seeker lost track of a Templar,” she said, the venom clear in his words even though his tone remained light. “He flanked you, gave you a concussion. Once you were downed, it only took a matter of Cassandra barreling toward him and pushing him to the ground. The fight was over quickly after that.”
She nods. “Just a concussion, then?” She reaches her arms to pull back the blanket draped over her, moving her hands over her limbs to check for any other Injuries. There was a bandage around her left forearm, but other than that nothing else.”
“There is also a cut here,” he takes his hand to grip her arm gently, rubbing the bandages with his thumb. “It didn’t require stitches, but it’s still rather deep. I urge caution with this arm as it heals.”
She nods. “Ma serannas, Solas,” she says. “It seems that I owe my good health to you once more.” She places her fingers over his as they still rested on her arm. “Thank you.”
“Tel’serannas,” he says, “You would have done the same for me.”
“That may be true, but I am still grateful.” She jerks her chin toward the fighting outside the tent. “And those two?”
“Varric is upset at Casandra for allowing you to get hurt, it was a preventable injury. He and I agreed that we would find a safe place to make camp to allow you to rest.”
“Don’t be silly, it’s just a concussion.” She moved to sit up, her head throbbing as soon as she reached halfway up. It must have shown on her face, because Solas sighed and reached his hand to place it over hers.
“If not for your own health, perhaps rest so Varric and I may have peace of mind? Cassandra as well. It was a reminder that you are but flesh and blood, something like this will not happen again.”
“You sound rather confident about that. You can never be sure.”
“I will not let it happen again.”
“Solas, I’m okay. It’s just a concussion, and not the first one I’ve had. My head hurts but we still have many hours of daylight.” They were so close to the Hinterlands, but perhaps he was right. Even when they got there it’s not like they could rest in an active war zone. With a sigh she nodded. “Fine. But only for the day.”
“Ma serannas, lethallan,” he says. She looks at him then, as he turns away from her. A ghost of a smile crossed her lips, the shadows from the lit candle danced across the tent and sharpened his features considerably. She knew he had sharp cheekbones, but the shadows carved out his face, leaving harsh lines across his jawline.
He turned back to her and there was a softness to his gaze, a worry there that she’d yet to see. A small wrinkle between his eyebrows betrayed the tenseness in his muscles, she could see it in the way he turned his body, shoulders stiff.
She reached out and grabbed his hand from where he mixed something in his hands, and intertwined their fingers. “You need rest too, lethallin,” she squeezed his fingers gently before releasing them. “Your movements betray you.”
With a dry chuckle he nodded. “You are perceptive.”
“It’s my job to be,” she smirked. “I’m serious though, this should be a rest day for all of us. Who knows if we’re going to be able tend to ourselves once we reach the hinterlands. Let’s utilize today for our bodies, hm?”
“Spoken like a true leader.”
“Would you ask Cassandra to come in please?” His gaze darkened.
“Are you sure that is the best idea?”
She nods. “We need to stop this distrust. If we are going to work effectively as a team, then we need to work together.” He nods and exists the tent, and she forces herself to sit up, wanting to look Cassandra in the eyes as they talked. She was no leader, she was no keeper, but she knew how to lead a small team effectively. The seeker had training for hand to hand and open field battle, but she suspected little guidance for how to navigate small teams. She could help.
“Herald, I-“ An’aris holds up her hand to stop her before Cassandra is able to finish the sentence.
“I’m not here to place blame. It happened, we will move on. I need you to tell me what you think went wrong,” An’aris extended her palm toward Cassandra, signaling for her to speak. Cassandra was quiet for a moment, likely sizing An’aris up. Whatever war was going on in her mind, An’aris takes note of the second Cassandra makes her decision. She sits down in front of An’aris, leaning on the heels of her feet. “Now, from the beginning.”
Solas was unhappy with the turn of events, to say the least. The seeker had let An’aris get downed in battle, it was preventable. Varric was shooting from a distance, the only one with a clear shot was Cassandra and instead of protecting her, she shouted her name as distraction.
“You look pissed, Chuckles,” Varric tore his attention away from his own loathsome thoughts with his words. The dwarf sat in front of the fire, tired shadows beneath his eyes. “Come on, let’s let the ladies talk.”
“Do you think it could have been helped?”
“You know I do.”
“We will not be able to afford such mistakes in the Hinterlands if the fighting is as bad as Leliana’s reports.”
“Maybe it’s a good thing.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’m just saying,” Varric pauses and turns his head to look up at him. “Wouldn’t you rather something like this happen now? When we’re able to take the time for An’aris to rest? Believe me when I say you have to take the small wins at times like this, at least we’re able to make camp for the day.”
“This was preventable, I-“
“Chuckles, I know it was. But that doesn’t change the fact that it happened. I don’t know about you, but I’d really rather the party tension seeped away. Who knows how long we’re going to be stuck out here with each other. They’re talking it through like adults, whatever decision An’aris makes I’ll honor it.”
He sighs. “As will I.”
“Then there’s no point in wallowing in anger. Let’s move on.”