Guest appearance: Karya and Aldes ( @kingsdragonage ), Kenslynn ( @megan-mayhem ), the DuMarcs ( @fangrl-esque )
~4600 words, Rated R for violence and language
Fiowyn - Skyhold
Fiowyn stood stock still, holding Nils behind her with one hand, while the other stretched out toward the woman that stood between her and the exit. Tall, regal and imposing, the so-called First Enchanter had pressed her lips together primly at Fi’s refusal to hand over the boy.
“You’re only making this harder for everyone involved, dear,” the woman said with a small sigh. “Here you are, pitifully defenceless and rather drunk, and you plan to stand against me?”
Fiowyn took a deep breath, trying to keep her eyes on the woman with the weird horned hat as she turned to speak to over her shoulder to Nils.
“Nils, sweetie,” she said calmly. “Why don’t you crawl under Mamae’s bed for now? I’ll tell you when it’s safe to come out. Until then, cover your ears and close your eyes okay?”
Nils gave her hand a squeeze and scrambled under the four post bed. It was huge, and it would keep Nils away from any blowback or spells. Fi didn’t doubt that the mage had the upper hand, but she couldn’t -wouldn’t- just hand Nils over so some prissy Orlesian woman.
“A poor decision, darling,” Vivienne said with a sigh. “The boy needs a proper education and he’ll get one despite his mother’s misguided opnions on the matter. Such a shame she went… native with you lot,” she said, voice icy. She flicked her grip on the staff she held and a blast of force struck Fiowyn square in the chest, knocking her back to the floor by the bed.
“I would stay down if I were you, dear,” Vivienne said. Through the ringing in her ears, Fi heard the woman’s heels click on the floor, approaching where she lay and where Nils hid just a arm’s length away.
Fiowyn looked over at the boy, his eyes squeezed shut and his hands over his ears like she’d told him. Something glinted by him, and Fi said a silent prayer of thanks to whichever of the Creators fuelled Millie’s paranoia. stuck to the slats of the bedframe was a pistol.
“Whatever it is you think you’re going to do,” Vivienne said, “Don’t.” Fiowyn watched the mage lower the head of her staff until it pointed directly at Fi’s nose. The tip started to glow, and the hairs along Fi’s arms prickled with static.
“Say goodbye to your nephew, darling.”
Theseus - Winter Palace
Another night and Theseus would have let the questions go. Another night, when his… his… when whatever Milliara was to him, hadn’t killed her ex. When she wasn’t trying to shut him out for no reason. When his blood wasn’t flush with lyrium thrumming with every beat of his heart. He tried to shake the questions off but they chewed at the back of his mind, fuelled by Lyrium.
It was one of those lesser known side effects, like losing your memory after several decades of use. The Chantry didn't tell you the rush Lyrium gave you until your first draught. They let you feel the way it made you bolder, less afraid, and told you it was for when you had to face down abominations and blood mages who would sooner show you your own spine than listen to reason. Whether it was truly the Maker giving him courage or just a chemical reaction tot he lyrium, it didn't matter. The effect was the same. The thrum of the drug in his veins pushed and pushed at the questions until he couldn't take it any more.
Three long strides took him up to where Milliara was stalking forward, muttering to Rythlen.
“Millie, talk to me. Please,” he said, reaching for her arm. “Tell me what’s going on. Tell me what happened. Did he hurt you? Did he-”
She flinched away from him, yanking back from his hand. The flash of fear in those silver eyes cut deeper than any words she might have flung his way. He’d never done anything to hurt her, never. Did she still think he would? She'd said she trusted him, but that was before she'd chosen the bastard Chevalier to watch her back. Now Rousseau had hurt her, forced Milliara to kill him. He might have deserved it, but if Theseus had been there, if he knew what happened maybe he could help... somehow.
“Don’t,” Milliara growled up at him. “Don’t push this right now, Theseus.”
Looking up at him, he watched Milliara put on a mask of anger to hide the fear. She didn’t have to, not around him, didn't she know that? It wasn't as though they were in the middle why did she try to hide that she was just human? Theseus winced internally at the phrase.
He realised Milliara was squinting at him, eyes flicking back and forth as she stared at his face. It took him a heartbeat to realise what she was staring at. He had forgotten she had such good eyesight in the dark. With her eyes, she'd be able to see that his pupils were still contracted to points,
“Are you… high?” She hissed.
“Lyrium doesn't make you 'high',” Theseus said, frowning.
“You- you took lyrium. What, here?” she asked, eyes wide. “Why would you take lyrium here? For all you know someone could have poisoned it, or worse, corrupted it with that red crap!”
“You’re being unreasonable,” he snapped back. He'd thought she was over this. He needed the lyrium to be effective in combat. She'd said she trusted him. Looks like she didn't anymore. “I took it so I could protect you. We don’t know what we’re facing out here, and you kept leaving me behind-”
“I almost lost you at Adamant. I wasn't going to lose you here.” Milliara jabbed a finger into his chestplate. Her glowing vallaslin flickered angrily in time with what would be her pulse. Theseus knew she was truly angry now, but so was he. The only thing that stopped him from raising his voice was her admission that she'd been scared for him, not of him.
Shit.
"Millie I'm sorry," he started to say. She didn't give him a chance to continue. Grabbing his chestplate, she pulled him down to her eye level.
“But this is bigger than you, and bigger than me and bigger than Fred. If I have to cut through you too because you were a dumbass and took lyrium in the fucking Orlesian-godsdamn-court, I will. I’ve done it once and I’ll do it again.”
Milliara let go and smacked his hand away as Theseus reached out to stop her, to try to smooth things over. She'd done it once? Did that mean when she'd been at Redcliffe she'd killed whatever she thought had been him? Or did that mean she'd killed Fred, and wouldn't hesitate to kill him too?
“Trevelyan, take Dorian and find Leliana and Cullen. Tell her what happened. Ry, Solas, New guy, we’re going Duchess-hunting.”
“Mil-”
“That was an order, Knight,” she snarled over her shoulder. “Move your ass.”
Theseus watched her stalk away, unable to meet Rythlen’s eyes as she glanced back with an empathetic face. Instead he took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders.
He had his orders. He hated them, but he had his orders.
‘I’ve done it once, and I’ll do it again’.
“I thought we were past that,” he muttered to himself, then turned to scowl at Dorian.
“Don’t look at me,” Dorian said, holding his hands up in defence. “I did try to tell you to drop it.” The Altus clicked his tongue. “But really, trusting Lyrium here to be untampered with? I hope you’re right and it was untouched.”
Theseus shook his head, starting towards the doors that would lead towards the main ballroom.
“I mean, in Minrathous you’d already be dead by now, but I hope you’re right.”
“You didn’t need to add that part, Dorian,” Theseus said over his shoulder.
“Hm. I suppose you’re right. Well, let’s go save an Empire, shall we?”
Maeve - Winter Palace
Everything happened so fast.
The Empress approached the dias and microphone to address the crowd and had yet to even say anything when the doors to the ballroom burst open and militants with harlequin patterns on their armor strode into the crowd, rifles raised and voices shouting for everyone to get onto their knees and put their hands behind their heads.
Cullen and Maeve both reacted on instinct. He punched the nearest bard, grabbing and twisting the gun from the man’s grip. Maeve slammed her glass into the woman behind him’s throat, grabbing the rifle and pointing it to the cieling and away from the civilians and nobles.
The masqued woman squeezed off a spatter of shots on reflex, the bullets punching into the gilded moulding of the ballroom cieling, sending chunks of plaster and dust falling down onto the screaming people below.
Gritting her teeth, Maeve grabbed the woman by the collar and twisted, throwing her over her hip and to the hard floor. Viciously, she yanked the rifle free and squeezed off a burst into the bard’s chest.
“Get to the Empress,” Cullen was shouting. Maeve could hardly hear him over the screams. But behind him there was another bard, there were too many. She couldn’t leave him and lose him like she’d lost-
Maeve grabbed Cullen’s lapels, twisting and throwing herself between him and the bard. She felt the first bullet punch into her back, tracing a line of fire through her that bloomed into white static in her chest. The other two shots were distant thuds, a hand pounding her back as she choked on the hot froth that bubbled up her throat.
“Maeve?” Cullen sounded so scared. She tried to cup his jaw, but her hands weren’t working right. “MAEVE?!”
“Sorry,” she whispered. “I couldn’t let- I’m sorry.” Her lips were still moving, but they were numb now, her whole body cold and numb aside from the trails of fire through her chest. “I love you.”
Warm arms wrapped around her, and Maeve smiled.
Cullen was always so warm...
Milliara - Winter Palace
“Soo...” the new guy said, keeping up as Millie and the others jogged around towards the balcony that jutted out into the courtyard from the head of the ballroom. It was where the peacetalks were to take place, an oasis from the crush of nobles and where the true business of Ruling Orlais was done.
It was also a back way in that Florianne wouldn’t expect.
“What,” Milliara said, turning through the maze of trellises and hedges. She wasn’t stopping, they’d wasted too much time already.
“Do you two always argue? Not that I'm complaining, it makes missions more entertain-”
“Get to the point or stop talking,” Millie said.
To his credit, the new guy took direction well. He coughed awkardly but let the poor attempt at banter drop. Theseus could learn a thing or two about that, Milliara thought bitterly. She'd said not now, and she'd fucking meant it. This wasn't the time or the place to talk about feelings.
"May I have a weapon before we find the Duchess? Pretty please?” Galaren asked. "Unfortunately her men took mine before-"
Without looking behind or slowing down, Milliara pulled the handgun from the small of her back and held it out to the side for the New Guy to take.
“Just take the gun,” she said, biting back a sigh. "And try not to shoot anyone wearing black."
Milliara felt him take the weapon and heard the click as he checked the magazine. At least he knew that much. Whatever witty reply he might have had was cut off by the stutter of small arms fire that ripped through the night air.
“Shit,” Milliara said, breaking into a run. The balcony was just ahead, with the trellis she remembered still there. Bless the void for small favours, Milliara leapt up onto the wooden lattice, climbing up it as fast as she could. Inside the ballroom there was screaming and more gunfire until a familiar voice spoke on the sound system.
“Lords, Ladies, dear Orlesians,” Florianne said. “Welcome with me an end to the corruption of Orlais, an end to the infighting and pointless Civil War. Welcome with me the reign of the only true God, the Elder One!”
Leaping from the trellis to the balcony, Milliara landed and rolled on the flagstones, absorbing the worst of the sound. She crept forward, bent low to hide behind the feast table that stood between her and the ballroom until she reached it’s edge. Peering around it, she could see Florianne standing next to a kneeling Gaspard and Celene. Each had a Bard in armor standing behind them with a handgun pointed at the back of their heads.
“Mother fuckers,” Milliara breathed. She glanced over at Ry, and signalled she was going in. They’d have to catch up, there was no time to waste.
With no gun –damnit New Guy– she was limited with what she had to work with. Millie peered at the top of the table, plucking two cheese knives from the spread and tucked them into her belt.
She took a breath in and held it, letting it out as she stepped out from behind the table and launched her two daggers at the gunmen. There would be others, and a knive thrown was a knife you couldn’t count on getting back.
The first gunman stumbled with a cry, the gun falling from his hand. The second grunted, legs buckling underneath him as the superheated blade of Milliara’s dagger bit through the back of his neck. She didn’t stop to watch if the blade had paralysed him or not. Pulling to stolen cheese knives free from her belt, she ran them over the spongey pouch at her hip, coating them in poison. If they weren’t already, this was Orlais after all.
The attendees at the ball gasped as Millie appeared from the darkness of the balcony. Milliara twisted, slamming her foot into the head of the injured gunman and knocking him over and away from Celene.
Behind her, Milliara could hear the others landing on the balcony, and she felt the cool prickly of magic settle around her shoulders. Solas, she guessed, but in the thick of things, it could be anyone who’d cast the spell. Millie just open it was a friendly spell and not a malicious one.
“You are as stubborn as ever,” Florianne said, lips peeling back from her teeth. “But before you move further, let me ask you: how much do you love your son?”
Milliara froze, cheese knives in each hand. The chill she felt may well have been ice water poured down her spine.
//Never let them see you bleed,/ she reminded herself. The next words were unbearable, but she said them because she had to, because if she didn’t, she’d give up what was most precious to his… hyena in silks.
“I don’t,” Milliara lied. “I would have thought you’d understand bargaining chips, Florianne. Keeping Nils meant keeping Frederic in line.” She forced her lips into a smile with too much teeth, even as she prayed to the void that Nils was safe. Skyhold was remote, it was patrolled and Fiowyn, Peanut and the others were there. Nils had to be safe. “Of course now that Fred is out of the picture… he’s a child as any other.”
Florianne hesitated. It was only a flutter of doubt but Milliara saw it in the Duchess’ eyes before she turned to face the crowd. The courtiers, sharks one and all, caught it too. Blood was in the water, and it wasn’t the Inquisitior’s.
“I don’t believe you,” Florianne said, gesturing up toward the screens hung around the dias. They flickered and cut away from a shot of Florianne to an image of the inside of Milliara’s rooms at Skyhold. More specifically, the floor where Fiowyn lay on one of he rugs that had been brought in at Josephine’s insistance. Nils liked to run his toy ships along the curling vines woven into it.
Now, Milliara watched as her cousin stared up at whoever was wearing the camera. A staff was outstretched toward Fiowyn’s face, crackling with energy. The camera spun, knocked off balance and Milliara caught a glimpse of dark manicured hands reaching out and throwing a ball of energy towards the two figures that now stood in the doorway. The audio crackled and popped, static and shouts of surpise as a Very Angry Qunari who was wearing a ruffly pink apron and bows on her horns, charged. Kalieth behind her was shouting, but whatever it was that she said was lost in the static and feedback.
The camera tumbled, bouncing and rolling to the side to show Peanut haul Vivienne to her feet and physically throw her into a wall.
“Hmm,” Milliara said, placing her hands on her hips. “This is going really well for you, Florianne.”
Vivienne tried to rally, reaching into the ether and pulling out a glowing blade to slash at Peanut. But a shimmering barrier sprung up, sending the blade skidding off harmlessly.
From underneath the bed, a small face and hand could be seen, and Milliara’s heart swelled up painfully as she realised her son had helped to protect his tutor. She swallowed hard, trying to regain the cold mask of indifference. It was too late.
“Don’t love him hm?” Florianne said, smug. She reached up to her collar and pulled at the butterflies there. Whatever magic or engineering had held the dress together released, letting silks fall to the floor. Underneath she wore light armor, similarly painted in ugly harlequin red and white. Orlesians.
“Look,” Milliara said, giving up on the pretense of indifference. “You’re not going to win this, Florianne. Surrender now, and I’ll let you live. You tried a play and it failed. There’s no shame in admitting you lost.”
“No shame?” Florianne asked, placing a hand to her breastbone in shock. “In losing to an elf? Please, I would rather die, rabbit.”
Milliara felt her lip twitch up into a sneer at the slur.
“That can be arranged. How about a duel? One on one. The winner takes the game tonight and the other’s life.” Milliara glanced out at the crowd, eyes scanning and catching key faces. Leliana, Josephine, Alistair were all there. Accounted for. If she could minimize losses, if she could just keep this from getting worse-
“Hm,” Florianne said, tapping a finger against her lips. “No.”
The Grand Duchess pulled her other hand around from her hip, now holding a handgun similar to those her henchmen had held before Milliara had incapacitated them. Instead of dodging to the side, Milliara threw herself forward. The gun flashed, bucking twice in Florianne’s hand before the elf was on her. Cheese knives or no, they were sharp and coated in the strongest poison Milliara had been able to make earlier that day.
The broader of the two slammed into the crook of Florianne’s elbow, slicing through the thin material there to bite into flesh. The poison was fast acting, not lethal but enough to disorient, and hopefully enough to turn the odds into Milliara’s favour. She had, after all, brough cheese knives to a gunfight. Not one of her best moments, she knew.
Florianne’s spare hand snapped into a hard punch to Milliara’s face, splitting the skin over her left eye. The hot blood that poured out stung her eye, and Milliara squeezed it shut to keep it from distracting her. But the hit had been enough to dislodge her grip on the Duchess. A sharp kick send Millie sprawling back onto the marble floor for the second time that night, and she wheezed and rolled back onto all fours.
Bright bolts of energy arced over her head and slammed into the Duchess, sending her staggering back. And Rythlen, beautiful, warrior queen that she was, charged forward and slammed the edge of her shield into the Duchess’s stupid masqued face. Florianne toppled, arms flailing at her face, now shattered by the Warden Queen’s strike. Hands were helping Milliara up, but he Inquisitor didn’t take her eyes off Florianne. The Duchess had let out a garbled cry for help, but her agents weren’t coming to her rescue.
Spitting blood from her mouth, Milliara snatched up the thermobladed dagger from where it was still buried in the gunman’s neck. With three strides, she was by Rythlen. The Queen sliced low with her sword, taking the Duchess out at the knee. Milliara, aching and exhausted, stepped forward and slashed her dagger down into Florianne’s exposed throat. Red sprayed out onto both Millie and Ry, staining pale skin. It was the second time tonight, but this time Milliara didn’t feel sick as she watched the body slump to the floor. This time she just felt relieved.
Looking up at the crowd below them, she saw that the guests had risen up and overpowered the Harlequins. Alistair and the Starkhaven Prince now held rifles and fallen agents lay by their feet in slowly spreading pools of blood.
“I really…” Miliara wheezed, bending over and bracing a hand against the railing of the balcony they stood on. Her chest was aching and she realised that one of the bullets had struck her chest armor, bruising already hurt ribs. “I really missed this.” She offered a half-smile to Rythlen.
“Bullshit,” Ry said, sheathing her sword and deactivating her shield. “You’re hurt. Let’s get you sitting down and have someone take a look at you.”
Milliara debated a smartass remark, but by the time she had anything half-way decent she had Ry on one side of her and the New Guy on the other, helping her out to the night air where the negotiations and feasting table still stood, relatively undisturbed.
“So, is every mission like this?” Galaren asked, helping Ry ease Milliara down into a chair. It was upholstered in white velvet and Millie took a deep, perverse, pleasure in knowing she’d stain it beyond all saving. Fuck Orlais. The only good things here were the music, the coffee and the cakes.
“Yes,” Milliara said, leaning her head back against the chair and closing her eyes. She winced as cool hands touched her forehead, just above the cut on her brow.
“Apologies,” Solas murmured. “I can help ease the swelling but it will take some time to heal. I do not have the skills that Enchanter Haylan does when it comes to medical arts.”
Milliara heard the swish of skirts approaching them, along with a delicate clearing of a throat. Reluctantly opening her non-blood covered eye, she looked past Solas to where Celene and Gaspard now stood. To their credit, neither one looked as though they’d just had their lives threatened. Calm, composed, the dust was even gone from Gaspard’s knees.
“We owe you a great deal, Inquisitor,” Celene said. “You have saved our life, and exposed a plot to drown our Empire in chaos. Yet, we still must resolve the matter of the Orlesian Civil war, or tonight’s sacrifices will all be for nothing, non?”
“Briala and Gaspard both were aware of the plot and tried to turn it to their advantage,” Milliara said, gesturing with her hand towards Galaren. “He can attest to Gaspard’s role.”
She watched the Empress feign horror and had to resist rolling her eyes at the display.
“But-” Milliara said before Celene could demand Gaspard’s head. “The Inquisition requests that you don’t kill Gaspard. Just exile, he can serve with the Inquisition until the Magister Corypheus is defeated then go off to… fuck, wherever,” she said, waving her hand vaguely. “Just not Orlais.”
Celene huffed, but nodded gracefully.
“As a favour, we grant this request in face of all you have done for us tonight, now, if you will excuse us, we need to see to clearing up this mess. Guards, escort our dear cousin Gaspard to the Inquisition forces, and fetch a healer for the Lady Inquisitor.”
**
Washing off the blood and grime of the night was cathartic, even though the cut on her forehead stung when water touched it, Milliara had stood with her head under the shower head for a full minute, just to feel the water wash off all traces of Fred and Florianne.
If she’d been allowed a choice, Milliara would have stayed in that shower for the rest of the night. It was safe and quiet, and most importantly away fromm qyestions about what had happened with Fred. Reluctantly, she’d dried off and fixed her hair and makeup in the guest suite Celene had given to them to use. Rythlen had already finished and now was pulling on her gown again.
“Rather impressively, casualties were low tonight,” Leliana said, standing by the door with her arms crossed at her waist. She’d arrived while Milliara was in the shower, and waited until she’d finished drying off to start the debriefing. “However, Cullen is… despondent. Maeve did not survive despite the best efforts of Celene’s healers.”
Milliara was quiet at that, and glanced down at her right palm, where the Anchor’s scar glowed green on her hand. In another universe, had things worked out differently? Would she be the one who had died tonight, and Maeve who had survived to save Orlais?
“Who else?” Milliara asked, standing slowly from her seat at the vanity and crossing to where her change of clothes hung from the closet door.
“A few minor nobles, Frederic of course, and the serving staff. We discovered Briala’s body in the front garden, whether she’d been attempting to escape or help the Empress, we will never know”
“Millie,” Rythlen asked, perched on the edge of the bed. “Are you doing okay? With everything that happened tonight…”
Her first reaction was to snap at Ry, tell her that she was fine. But, she wasn’t. And Milliara had had enough lying to friends for one night.
“No,” she admitted, unzipping the garment bag and pulling out the dress inside. It was white, simplly cut but embroidered with glimmering beads. Like her suit, the dress had a plunging neckline, and was slit up the centre to allow her to move easily. It was a far cry from the confections Fred used to dress her up in. Thank the Void for that.
“I’m not, but, I will be eventually,” Milliara admitted after a moment. She winced, pulling on the dress gingerly over the bruises that had started to bloom along her ribs and back. "Right now, I just want to try to enjoy what's left of the night. The food and wine and music and maybe listening to that Starkhaven Prince talk about anything."
Leliana smiled. "He does have a charming voice, doesn't he?" the bard said. "I'll tell our people to keep an eye on you and to fend off the suitors."
Milliara paused in the middle of pinning on the Inquisition broach and looked over at Leliana in horror.
"What... suitors..." she asked carefully.
Leliana just smiled, and opened the door.
"Go on, enjoy yourselves," she said. "I'll manage the rest of the evening so you two can relax. I suggest trying some of the petit fours, they're quite delicious."
Milliara watched Leliana slip out the door, then looked to Rythlen. Tall and strong, the elf wondered how the Queen managed this, the life of ruling and court and everthing. Every day.
"Hey... Ry?" She said quietly. "Thank you. For being here." For being a friend. "It means a lot to me."
Guest appearance: Karya and Aldes ( @kingsdragonage ), Kenslynn ( @megan-mayhem ), the DuMarcs ( @fangrl-esque )
1900 words
CW! WARNING. Contains scene of physically abusive behaviour below the cut.
Milliara - The Winter Palace
A gentle knock on the bedroom door yanked Milliara and Solas apart, her lips still hot from where they'd been crushed against the his. They both watched the door, their shared breath held in each of their chests.
"Mil, I..." As quick as her reflexes were, Milliara wasn't fast enough to pull free of the embrace before the half-closed door to the bedroom opened. There stood Fred, the shock clear on his face.
Her gut reaction was to flinch away, lifting her hands up over her face. It was so ingrained in her that Milliara was already ducking away, hands over her head when she felt a strong hand grab the back of her armor and yank her off the bed. The floor was marble, and as she landed hard onto it, the breath held in her lungs -still tasting like Solas's lips- was forced out.
His meaty hand was in her hair, yanking her head back to look at him. His face was dark, jaws clenched and fist raised, trembling.
Beyond, at the door, stood Dorian, eyes wide as he watched in shock.
The whole room was in a tableau above Milliara, each man frozen in place for a hammered series of hearbeats. THen the world caught up. Milliara moved, hands snapping down. One grabbed his hand in her hair, the other went to her waist.
Dorian shouted.
Solas let loose a flash of magic that rocked Fred's head back. But his hand had already snapped down, his strong hand clamping down around Milliara's throat. Air and blood caught against the vicelike grip, cut off from her brain.
The knife in her free hand slamed up into the opening Solas's spell given her. His head tilted back for only a moment, but it was all she needed. The blade sank deep into thick corded muscle and tendons, and she grabbed it with both hands, yanking it to the side and out.
Red, hot and bright spurted out, painting her in his blood. She fought to jam it into his neck again, feeling his hand loosen around her own as though the damage she inflicted on his directly eased the damage attempted on her.
Solas and Dorian pried them apart, Milliara gasping and wheezing as she sucked down cupperic air through her bruised trachea, and Fred gurgling and flailing at his throat. He was trying to say something, but he couldn't. The air was bubbling out his throat, the spray eased now to panicked pumps of red and pink foam.
"Lethallan," Solas was saying, gathering her up and wiping at the blood on her neck, her face. She batted his arms away, crawling back until her back hit the wall and she had no where left to go.
Every breath was fire, and she tried to swallow the spit and blood that coated her tongue, but it hurt. Fuck, it hurt.
The room was quiet now, aside from her panicked wheezing.
"I- I'm so sorry I didn't know-" Dorian said, staring at his hands. "I should have done something. I just-"
"I shouldn't have let him touch you," Solas was saying.
Too many words. Too much to make sense of.
"Get Ry," Milliara croaked. "And Leliana." She was staring at the pallid face of Fred, staring at her with that grimace on his face. She hadn't heard the word he'd been trying to say, but she knew what it had been. She'd heard it often enough in their years together.
'Whore'.
She could still feel his hand around her neck, squeezing until she was sure that no air would ever get through again. His lips by her ear, calling her a Whore with alcohol-stained breath. She could still taste blood when the back of his hand had cracked across her face. How he'd been too drunk to remember he had loaned her out to a 'friend' for a job for the promise of a better, bigger, title.
She remembered the look on his face, the way his eyes were flat and dark and hard as he'd called her a whore for working at that damn strip club because he'd needed dirt on one of Celene's pet generals.
She remembered the way he'd pulled her by the hair, dragging her out into the rain when he'd seen someone look at her the wrong way.
She remembered, she remembered, she remembered.
She remembered why she hated Orlais so godsdamn much. It'd been a mistake to come back here, and worse to allow Fred to come along.
"Go," she mouthed to Dorian, pointing at the door. He nodded, his composure coming back slowly. He nodded again, and stepped out of the doorway into the hall. She and Solas were quiet until Dorian's footsteps faded away.
"I shouldn't have encouraged that," he whispered, holding a bloodied hand out to her. He too was spattered in red, Fred was covering both of them. Marking them like the godsdamn sinners they were.
"If it wasn't you, it'd-" she wheezed, taking his hand and letting him pull her up to her feet. "If abelas, he- I-"
Solas, pressed a gentle thumb to her lips to stem the flow of words. His fingers slipped down to probe the damage, but at the touch of his hand on her neck, Milliara flinched.
"I'm sorry," he said again, "Please, let me heal this. The night is not yet over."
Milliara closed her eyes. "Okay," she mouthed, throat too sore to speak.
Solas's hands were feather light and cool as they traced over the marks Fred had left. Like rain, his fingers left behind cool prickles along her skin and she bit back a sob as the pain started to ease and each gulp of air no longer felt like sandpaper being dragged down her throat.
Then the sob was real and aloud and the tears flooded out. She stepped forward, curling into cool arms and gentle touch as the reality of what had just happened broke through the lingering shock.
"Nils," she whispered, hands to her mouth. "Oh my god, Nils. I-"
"You protected yourself," Solas said quietly. "When he is older, he will understand. And..." he hesitated. "If you had not killed that monster, I would have."
Milliara looked up at him, unsure what to say. The tears wouldn't stop though, not until they had washed off all of the monstrous red that painted her face. Solas brushed a handful of his sleeve over her face, helping to get rid of the horrible touch. Fred's last hold on her.
"You save people that are not worth saving," Solas said quietly. "You are better than we deserve. If I could have taken this one death off your heart, I would have. In a moment, I would have."
"I needed to do it," Milliara whispered, mostly to herself. "I had to be the one to to it." So why was she still crying? It wasn't grief, it was... release. All the tears she'd held back over the years.
She sniffled, wiping her face on the underside of her sleeve.
"If you tell anyone I cried, I'll... I'll be really upset at you," she mumbled.
Solas's lips pulled up to one side at first, then he pulled her back into the careful embrace.
"I won't tell a soul."
Peanut - Skyhold
What had been scandalized gasps seconds ago was now horrified silence. The headset's camera was sprayed red, the close up view of the brutal fight enough to turn Karya pale, and turn Peanut's stomach.
"Oh Sunshine..." Peanut said softly, and gently pulled Milliara's pallid clanmate into a tender hug.
Pea knew she wasn't much for Orlesian court, but now she felt a surge of guilt rising in her throat. If SHe'd been there, she could have stopped this, somehow. Broken Fred's hand before he'd grabbed Millie's throat, thrown him out the window, something. Anything to keep the Inquisitor from killing the father of her son.
"Shit..." Varric muttered, hand over his mouth. "Shit. That-" he shook his head. "Shit. The kid, Andraste preserve him. The kid had been so happy to have his dad back."
Kalieth stood, brushing off the crumbs of popcorn from her lap.
"Where are you going?" Karya asked, nerves slipping into her voice. Peanut rubbed the young elf's back gently, murmuring soothing sounds.
"Fi needs to know," the warden said. "Fi should know. Karya, can you come to watch Nils while I tell her?"
"I'll come and spend time with Nils," Peanut offered, noticing that Karya still looked a little... green. Well, as green as a purple skinned elf could get. At the warden's nod, Pea let go of Karya and gave her a little pat.
"Carver, you're in charge while I'm gone," the Qunari said, delegating out of habit. "Once Fiowyn gets back, we'll let her decide if we turn this off or not."
Funny how a night could go from fun and harmless to manslaughter in an instant, Peanut thought. She let out a slow long breath, rolling her shoulders back as she ducked under the doorway and stepped out into the hall where Kalieth was waiting.
"Did you know him?" the elf asked, falling into stride next to Pea. By now it was habit to shorten her strides whenever one of the small pointy people were walking next to her, and Peanut did so without thinking.
"No," she said quietly. "Not much. He had been trying to be good, a good father, a good knight." She frowned, rubbing a hand over her neck. It was tense out of too much empathy after seeing so much red come out of Fred's.
Kal snorted.
"She talked a bit about him to Fi, but not to us. Avoided it when she could, but Nils-"
Peanut sighed.
"He adored his father," she finished for the elf. Kal nodded. "I don't know how she's going to do it, but it's going to be up to her to tell him. Nils I mean." Peanut bit her lip.
Not just Nils. Theseus and the Orlesians and, this was a mess and a half, wasn't it?
"I just don't understand why," Peanut said quietly as they reached the lift to the Inquisitor's suite. Gently pressing the button, they waited for the elevator to come back to their floor. "Why did he do that when he saw Sunshine with SOlas but not when she and Theseus where making eyes at each other?"
It wasn't like the kiss had been innocent, but it had still been just a kiss.
"Solas is an elf," Kal said quietly, eyes fixed on the elevator doors. With a gentle ping, they opened and the two women stepped inside. "Orlesians, especially Noble Orlesians like that. It's one thing to have something of yours stolen by another noble, but an elf with no title, no name, no standing? It would have been like watching Milliara kissing a darkspawn."
Peanut's brows drew into a deep frown.
"Oh." It was all she could say, really. Outside the Qun, Qunari and Vashoth were seen as half-ogres. But she had a feeling that Frederic wouldn't have dared threaten Sunshine like that if she'd been in The Iron Bull's lap.
With an undeniable honesty, artist Kalieth brings out the most emotional song of this season ‘Can't Quit Falling Over U’ beautifully wrapped in his melodic voice.
With an undeniable honesty, artist Kalieth brings out the most emotional song of this season ‘Can't Quit Falling Over U’ beautifully wrapped in his melodic voice.
The upcoming young artist Kalieth gets inspired by doing facetime with his girlfriend and comes with the single ‘Purple Light Vibes’ to pine over his recent heartbreak.
The upcoming young artist Kalieth gets inspired by doing facetime with his girlfriend and comes with the single ‘Purple Light Vibes’ to pine over his recent heartbreak.
