(Talesfromthefade) Bandaging each other’s wounds, for the DWC?
@ashetrashe
Harrowing
Apparently I can’t resist a little Tranquil Inquisitor angst. Heh.
For @dadrunkwriting
Solavellan, angst, hurt/comfort, Tranquil cure
1,172 words
The battle was over and Solas panted heavily, leaning on his staff as his limbs shook with exertion. He wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his hand and left a smear of blood behind as he gazed at the battlefield. The Templars had fallen, overwhelmed by the Inquisition soldiers whose numbers were bolstered by the Chargers and another mercenary company led by a Tal Vashoth woman who fought with magic and blade.
She approached him as the dust settled and the mercenaries silenced the last moans of pain from dying Templars. He cringed to see her, but even so he dropped his staff at once to pull her into his arms. She still smelled the same, spices and honey. She still felt the same, warm and soft and strong. But she did not melt into his arms, and she did not return his embrace.
He pulled back and met her eyes, thumbs tracing the lines of her face restlessly. He could not look at her forehead, could not bear to see what he knew was there. He should have expected it when they discovered who had taken her, should have fought harder to find her sooner, but some part of him had rebelled against even entertaining the thought that it would happen to one as vibrant as her.
“Salshira,” he breathed, as though her name would bring light to her eyes. “Are you hurt?”
“Yes,” she told him, her tone devoid of inflection. That was wrong, wrong, Salshira was a woman of passion and laughter and wit. She would never admit that was hurt unless she couldn’t hide the bleeding, but there she was, standing before him and telling him that she was injured. His magic washed over her anyway, healing deep bruises and a few fractured ribs. Her eyelids fluttered and she took a deep breath when he was done, likely the first deep breath she’d been able to take in a while. “Thank you,” she told him, still emotionless. “There will be other things to deal with, when you return me to myself. The Templars are far from kind and I cannot predict how I will respond.”
He swallowed hard, hating the way she spoke. “I will help you,” he vowed.
She watched him, and though he saw that thoughts moved behind her eyes he could not read them. She was something apart from what he knew, now, and unrecognizable. “I know what I should feel when I look at you,” she said at last. “I can remember it, warmth and dizziness. It seems odd to me to be without it.”
He closed his eyes as agony washed over him. I should have protected you, he thought to himself, but her hand found his cheek, warm and calloused and familiar. “No,” she said. “This was not your fault.”
He couldn’t avoid it then, the mark on her forehead. He touched the skin around it with a shaking finger, the skin oozing and angry red where it wasn’t blackened. The Templars had been unnecessarily cruel and held the brand to her forehead until it burned to the bone, and he wanted to kill them all over again.
“This should never have happened,” he whispered, his voice trembling as much as his hands.
“I know,” she replied. “But it has. And you can cure it. Summon a friend, and ask them to touch my mind. I will be myself again. I will know what it is like to love you.”
Calming himself enough to fall into a meditative trance and enter the Fade was more of an obstacle than it should have been, but agony and guilt beat at his mind and it took too long to find his center. She was patient, but she was no longer capable of being anything else as she waited to be cured. He found a friend, brought them to where her mind roamed, intangible unless one was searching for it. And his friend reached for her despite their distaste for what she had become. He tried to hold her as she solidified before his eyes, but she screamed, in a panic, and vanished. He followed at once.
When he returned to the physical world, Salshira was sobbing, her head buried in her knees. He drew her into his arms at once, and though there was a knife in his chest for her pain he was smiling in relief. She was back.
***
It took a long time for her to calm down. It likely helped that she’d been Tranquil for only a few days, but the experience had been harrowing for her. And Solas was right beside her every moment.
She wouldn’t let anyone touch the brand for days, wouldn’t even let anyone look at it. She couldn’t stand the thought of it, though he knew she had to be in agony. At last, he refused to allow her to leave it untreated any longer.
“Let me see it, Salshira,” he pleaded as she hid her face from him. “Let me take care of it.”
“You saw me like that,” she whispered, horrified. Though her tears had dried, she was still distraught. “You heard me talk like that. I went to you like that. Willingly. I let you see it…”
“You knew that I could help,” he reminded her. “I still can.”
It took a little more coaxing, a little more reminding her that he loved her after all this, but eventually she turned to him. She wouldn’t look at him as his magic washed over the wound, burned out the beginning infection before healing the skin, new growth replacing what was burned away. Once the skin was whole once more he gently, carefully, wiped away the blackened remains of the wound. She stiffened when he touched the area, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes once more, then threw herself into his arms. Her apologies were shushed, for she had nothing to be sorry for. None of it was her fault.
They sat by the fire with the others that night and she even smiled for them. He couldn’t bear to let her out of his sight, but she seemed content to remain beside him, always in physical contact, and it helped. It reminded him that she was real, she was there, and she was safe once more.
After the others had returned to bed, the two of them remained, gazing into the fire.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, but she seemed oddly calm.
He buried his face in her hair, an arm around her waist. “Do not be,” he whispered.
“I wish I could calm down,” she murmured, still gazing at the glowing embers.
He sighed, and the scent of her had a calming effect on him. “You have been through much. There is no need to rush your recovery. Take as much time as you need to feel better.”
They stayed by the fire until the ash turned their eyes gritty, then they laid tangled together to sleep.