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Even afterwards, he had no idea how he made it. How did he pull himself up? How did he move his legs, his arms, his- no. Hed had no arms. Just an arm. And whatever was left of the other one. He vaguely remembered kneeling on the ground, soft grass surrounding him. But all sensation was cut off when a glaring pain coursed through him, spreading out from his hand like a disease, veins glowing green and yellow and hot. He remembered…how it had dulled. Although he felt it crumbling apart, first his fingers, then his palm and then…he felt it. But he didn’t see it. Because he was watching him. His…friend? His God? Or was he, after all, his enemy? He couldn’t tell anymore. He couldn’t tell anything. It was like the whole world around him was screaming but at the same time…everything was dark and he couldn’t see the path. He would fall! For sure, one step and he would tumble over the edge and fall…and fall…into the endless pit of darkness that was closing in on him. But he didn’t care as much as he should. He felt numb. Barely even alive. Or not at all anymore? He wasn’t sure…
“…an…”
A sound cutting through black silence.
“Kadan!”
His eyes snapped open and his upper body surged into a sudden sitting position. He took a gasping breath and his head felt dizzy. His eyes were wide, yet he couldn’t see a thing.
The blinding white slowly changed into what seemed to be his current surroundings. That was…the other side of the Eluvian. The side where he had left his companions to follow the Viddasala. To find Solas. Solas…
Fen’harel…
Solas…
A sob escaped his mouth.
“Kadan, what happened?” He looked to his right, every movement still feeling shaky. A friendly face. The face of his Vhenan.
He heard someone curse to his left. In Tevene? Dorian?
“It’s gone.” The mage said, sounding desperate.
“What do you mean?!” A shrill voice. Sera.
“His arm-” Dorian continued, on the verge of tears as it sounded. “It’s just – gone.”
“But his clothes aren’t even bloody or-”
“I know!!!”
The Iron Bull stayed out of this argument and looked his lover in the eye, cupping his cheek with one broad palm.
That was when Parivell was pushed over the edge and collapsed sobbing and shaking into the Qunari’s arms. His whole body shook with tears and his remaining hand clawed itself into Bull’s massive frame. Gripping desperately, searching for footing somewhere.
They sat there for a while, on the small meadow amidst the old ruins. Sera was huddled against her best friend’s back, drawing circles on the ground, and Dorian sat close to her, silently holding on to her hand while he stared into the distance, his mind seemingly far away.
Bull continued to hold his elf in a tight embrace, soothing him with sounds and stroking his hair.
“Shhh…you’re safe now.” He whispered. “Nobody will hurt you…”
He nuzzled his head and held onto him, while Parivell still silently cried, but at least lost some of the tension in his muscles. He slowly started to relax a bit, but it only made him realize how utterly exhausted he really was.
“The Viddasala’s gone…” he murmured into Bull’s chest after a while, his breathing still heavy, but at a more normal pace.
“That’s good.” The Qunari acknowledged quietly.
“We…” Parivell continued, though every word required strenuous effort. “…have to tell the others.”
“Hmh.” Bull hummed into his hair.
“Did you find the egg head?” Sera’s mouth was as foul as ever, but her voice was soft and worried.
Parivell cringed at the mention of Solas, trying to forget everything he’d heard and seen.
Later. He tried to tell himself. Think about it – later. Time was of the essence now.
His companions noticed how he had tensed again.
“You did, didn’t you?” Sera insisted.
Pari opened his mouth, but nothing else besides panting came out. “He-” He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on hard facts, not emotion. “He’s Fen’harel.” He finally bit out.
“What?!” Dorian seemed to have come back from wherever his mind had wandered.
“Is…that true?” Bull asked.
Parivell nodded.
“And the Viddasala…did he…?”
He nodded again.
“And your arm…” The Qunari growled dangerously at the thought.
His Kadan gave a curt nod.
“I’m going to-!”
“No!!!” Pari interrupted Bull’s death threat with a high shriek. His lover looked at him, angry and confused.
He was pleading now, his voice barely audible. “He saved me…Vhenan…the Anchor would have killed me.”
Bull’s expression softened slightly. “What else did he tell you?”
“He told me of the Elven Gods…” Parivell stared at the ground, his heart beating so rapidly in his chest he feared it would explode. “They were…just…they were just……mages.” His voice hitched. “They never-!” He didn’t continue to stop the tears rolling out anew.
“The Gods were false…” Dorian finished for him.
Sera looked at her friend and bit her lip, swallowing down the inevitable ‘I told you so’ for his sake.
“Everything.” Parivell sobbed loudly now. “Everything was a lie!” His volume increased. “Everything I ever believed was a LIE!!!”
He threw his hand on his face and let out a muffled scream, then let go to punch his fist on Iron Bull’s chest. He let him. Again. And again…and again. Until his strength left him and the elf slid down his lover’s massive body, weeping uncontrollably.
When Parivell had learned that Mythal indeed was real, that she physically existed, it had been one of the most joyful days in his life. What if the other Gods were out there somewhere as well? If he could seek them out, talk to them? It had compensated thousand fold for all the times he had to defend his believes in front of others. All this doubt, all of the mocking, it had become irrelevant all of a sudden.
Then the rumors of Fen’harel came up. Parivell had secretly hoped that at the end of all, there would indeed be the cunning god of the old tales. The murals and depictions they had seen on their way to stop the Qunari, the stories of a Fen’harel who was merciful, a savior of the People…Parivell didn’t want to believe them, but at least, they had shown something of what he had been taught. Gods. The pictures had shown Gods…
Now, he could only helplessly witness how his world crumbled around him. Like the very ruins he was sitting in right now. His Gods had left him…
No.
They had never been there.
But how could that be?
All the stories, all the prayers…all the good things that happened after these prayers! Pure luck? A shiver ran down his spine. All of his thoughts, all of his conclusions after his confrontation with Solas, clawing at him like cold hands, threatening to rip him apart - they left him shaking with blank terror.
He remembered Solas telling him of his plan. A plan to destroy the world. For the sake of the old Elven Empire. It was madness, of course. Parivell had known that even then. But he still had listened to everything his old friend had to say, like he had done before at Skyhold all the time. Solas knew so much. And so much was lost that could be restored. Wasn’t that what he had longed for all his life? He had offered Solas, no, Fen’harel his help. His People had been yearning for this lost part of themselves for ages. How could he not want to help healing this ancient wound? He had thought of his friends, the man he loved, of course. But wasn’t this something greater than all of them? They all would have to die eventually. Why not die for a cause? Then again, back in that moment, when Solas refused his help, his world had already been shred into pieces, shattered beyond repair. Maybe he was clutching at straws? Every little bit that reminded him of the stories he had been told. Arlathan…it was something familiar, compared to a world where there was simply…nothing. No Gods, no Dalish tales – at least not for him anymore. How could he stand to tell or even listen to them ever again? His heart…his whole being…had been broken.
“We don’t have much time.” Dorian softly interrupted his train of thoughts. He squatted down next to him and carefully put a hand on his shoulder. “My friend.” His voice was sad. And so were his eyes. “You have to be strong now. I couldn’t possibly imagine what you are going through right now, but don’t you dare to forget that you are not alone in this.” A tear rolled down Dorian’s cheek. A slight spark of warmth went through Pari’s gut, caused by the deep concern and affection his dear friend showed for him.
“Damn right he is!” Sera put as much of her usual energy in her voice as she could muster. “We didn’t come all this friggin way to rot here, yeah?”
Parivell could barely hold the next wave of tears in. His friends told him to be strong, when in truth, they were the ones to show strength for him.
Bull took his lover’s face in both of his large hands, making them look at each other.
“We have to go now, Kadan. We have to go, find you another set of clothes, maybe something to eat…and we have to tell the others what happened.”
Pari managed a weak nod, knowing he was right.
Although a part of him did not want to leave. The part of his mind that tried to convince him that if he stayed, it would all stay a dream. Only the foolish act of leaving would make it real. And why would he want that?
He caught Bull’s gaze.
“Can you walk?” The Qunari asked, holding onto Parivell’s remaining hand to help him keep his balance while standing up. He had been so lost in his despair, he had nearly forgotten that he was in fact lacking an arm. It didn’t really matter to him. If he could have changed some or even most of the facts Solas had told him…he would have gladly given even more than just a mere arm.
He clutched the sides of Bull’s armor. “I can manage…I think.” He let his gaze wander over the ruins that lay ahead of him, the rubble, the crumbled stairs and the uneven terrain. “Just…don’t let go.” He whispered more to himself.
He felt a large hand on his head, fingers sliding tenderly through his hair.
“Never, Kadan.”