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“Not only did you destruct my ritual and imprison me here forever, you destroyed my decor? Where did you put all my books? Please don’t tell me you destroyed those as well?”
Solas stands inside the lighthouse library—though it hardly deserves the title when there’s not a book in sight. He swipes at the dried blood on his throbbing forehead, staring at the wall that used to be covered in ancient texts and is now a gallery of artwork. It is infuriating—infuriating that the works she has put on display are truly beautiful.
There will be grief when he tosses them.
“Relax.” She says, flippantly. “They’re upstairs in your brooding room. You know, the one with the balcony?” Rook steps forward, a fraction too close, and he spies the healing magic flowing through her fingertips. “Here, you’re still bleeding a bit, let me help you.” She raises her hand.
“Don’t touch me,” he snarls, backing away.
“Really?” She clenches her fist as it falls to her side, magic dissipating. “Is that how this is going to be? You are being petulant.”
“I am being—” He shakes his head and presses his fingers to his nose, immediately regretting his decision as pain vibrates through his being. “My abilities are more practiced than yours. I can heal myself.”
“If that is what you desire,” she replies.
“Ah, yes,” he says sardonically. “You so clearly care about my desires.”
“I’m not forcing a healing on you am I? Not begging or pleading for you to come and receive it either.” She raises a brow, a half-smirk pulling at her lips. “Would that suit you better, though? Is that what you would prefer?” She pats her knee absurdly. Mocking. Her voice pitches higher, patronizing. “Please come hither dear boy, come perch in my lap and receive your healing. You’ll get a reward if you sit still and be good.”
He flicks his eyes away, clenching his jaw and refusing to entertain her further. Nails digging into his own palm, his whole forearm goes rigid with tension from his closed fist.
Yet, she continues her ceaseless prattle anyway.
“We do not have to do this. You realize that, correct? We do not need to endure a living situation that is rife with contempt. I can even extend an olive branch by…”
He snaps his attention to her, fury knit between his brows. “An olive branch?” He laughs humorlessly. “After what you have…”
She cuts him off, “precisely. I could fetch your books for you and restock the shelves. At some point we need to set aside our differences in order to discuss next steps.”
“Set aside our differences? You think this is merely a matter of solving differences?”
“I know diplomacy is hard when you have been spoiled and can get whatever you want. But yes, you are not alone. You have me. That requires cooperation if we hope to solve anything beyond petty squabbling.”
“No,” he says. Perhaps even petulantly.
He knows what diplomacy is. But she is simply insufferable.
A sigh. “Neither of us wants this. But you and I are bound to this place forever. And to be fair, you brought this about. I tried to befriend you. Tried very hard actually and all you could do in return was trick and betray me. Not once. Not even twice. But an unforgivable amount of times. So I joined in on the game you were playing and now you are bitter that I bested you. I understand. My ex was a sore loser too. But I could not stand idly by and let you destroy the world.”
“Bested me?” He lets out a bark of mocking laughter. “Is that what you call this? Being imprisoned forever, in the fade alongside me, is besting me?”
“I stopped you from tearing down the veil.”
“Ah, yes.” He clasps his hands behind his back as he levels his gaze at her. “And how many lives did it cost you in the process?”
“Far less than any you have taken or would have taken,” she retorts.
“Ah, I see. It does not matter how many lives you took, so long as the number tallies less than mine. Is that correct?”
“No. Do not twist my words,” she says, more nonchalantly than she should.
It infuriates him. Does she feel nothing?
She yawns and throws herself onto the sofa, lounging on the armrest with her legs tucked up under her. “So, shall we attempt some form of cooperation or do you really just want to rehash the same arguments? Because I can go all day and night either way. I have got quite the clear schedule now.” She conjures up some sort of colorful drink with a large and equally colorful straw. She sips loudly. Then smacks her lips and drags out the most annoying, “ahhh.” Raising a brow she tells him, “your choice.”
He snorts. “I would hardly call it as such.”
She conjures another drink and sets it on the table. “For you. A friendly peace offering. Perhaps it will help you relax a little.”
“You realize you are the most infuriating person I have ever had the displeasure of knowing, correct?”
Rook smirks. “Now you are just being dramatic.”
Solas grits his teeth but swipes the drink off the table and leaves her to find his books. He takes a sip while out of her sight.
It’s infuriatingly delicious.