The New Ways of Old Gods Chapter 8

Part 8
Awakening

Astlyr saw the world in flashes.
Blue sky with a bird flapping through it—Blackness.
A shout, “they're over here, hurry!” --Blackness.
A face hovering over her, she wasn't certain whose –Blackness.
“-Won't make it through the night if we don't...” --Blackness.
A cool hand resting over her eyes and a sudden feeling of calm.  --Blackness.
Something nestled beside her on a bed.  An animal?  A wolf? --Blackness.

When she was able to open her eyes and keep them open it was night.  There was soft light from a nearby fireplace and a few candles as the only illumination.  Somewhere in the warm room she could hear someone moving.  She took a moment to study the rafters.  Herbs hung above her.  The scent was meant to keep out infection, she recalled, and perhaps evil spirits.  Her mind felt like that of a child.  Unable to hold on to complex thoughts.  Instead she pondered the herbs.  Slowly, as she did this, her memories arranged themselves like books fallen from a shelf, back into a semblance of recollection.  First came a feeling of betrayal.  She couldn't put her finger on it for a long moment, then finally recalled Solas' face.  Only it wasn't his face.  The eyes of a dragon had replaced his kind ones.  She shuddered.

She managed to look down at herself.  Her right arm was in a sling against her chest.  The other was stiffly splinted and bandaged, laying straight at her side.  It felt as though the bone had been replaced with a blade, which sliced away at tender muscle.  She tried not to think about it, though her eyes watered.

Then her mind really came to life and she tried to sit up.  “My men!” her voice was cracked and dry  as old parchment.  The motion of attempting to rise was extremely painful and her head spun wildly.  Suddenly two hands were at her shoulders, pressing her back down.

“No, no, Astlyr.  You must be still.”

“Cole?” she allowed herself to be pressed back onto the soft bed.

“Yes,” the pale boy smiled down at her.  “I'm here.  I am to fetch the others as soon as you wake, and you are awake, so I will go get them.”

Before the spirit boy could vanish she grabbed his hand, a motion which sent pain slicing up her arm.  She bit back a grimace and asked, “Cole.  My men?”

He turned his wan eyes back down to her and his mouth tilted in what might have been his attempt at an encouraging smile.  “They all live.  I know you are very worried about them.  And...angry because of Solas?” he tilted his head, confused.  “His name is jumbled in your mind.  Thorns on a tree and you bleed.  Bending to bow and you are betrayed.  What happened?”  He gently untwined her fingers from his and lay her arm back beside her.  Then he rested his hand on her arm soothing the pain with his gift.  His eyes held the careful, gentle quality she had seen as he watched over other wounded.  It was strange having that expression fixed on her.

“Go bring the others, Cole.  I'll tell everyone what happened at once.” she said.  She noticed he stood leaning on a cane, his wounded leg held up so he did not put much weight on it.  She hoped he was not doing himself harm being up and about.

He caught her concern with a tilt of his head, “I am alright, Astlyr,” he reassured her before vanishing.

“That boy,” another voice spoke.  Astlyr turned her head to see Audra, the lead healer walking over.  “You should have seen the state he was in when you were all brought back to Skyhold.  He sensed you coming before you were even on the bridge.  He popped down here and told us to get ready because we had wounded coming in and before I knew, it you lot were carried through that door,” she shook her head, her expression serious.  “And you were in a bad state, let me tell you.  Cole wouldn't be still, so I convinced him to at least use a cane.”

“He's not doing himself more harm is he?” Astlyr questioned, attempting to push herself up to a sitting position.  This failed as her limbs seemed to have been replaced with wet noodles.  She cursed under her breath.

“I don't believe so,” Audra answered her.  Then the healer motioned with her head to one of the guards standing silently beside the still slumbering elven 'god'.  The man came over and between the two of them they propped Astlyr up against a mound of pillows and the headboard.

“I'm glad to see you awake, ma'am,” the guard said, touching the brim of his helmet in salute.

“I am too,” Astlyr gave him her best encouraging smile before he returned to his guarding duties.  Now the qunari took in the infirmary.  A warm fire blazed on the hearth and all around her her team slumbered on various beds.  To her left was Dorian, the mage's chest rising and falling slowly.  Across from her Iron Bull lay.  She could make out that he was covered in many bandages.  She shuddered to remember what had happened to her kadan and wished she could go to him, but she knew that motion would be about as successful as her attempt to sit up.  In beds beside Bull rested Varric and Cassandra.  She could not make out the extent of their injuries.  “How are they?” she asked.

“Some better than others,” Audra admitted, sitting down on the edge of Astlyr bed and taking her pulse, seemingly more out of habit than anything.  “Varric had a serious head wound and a few impressive lacerations, but that's all.  Dorian...” she glanced sideways at the quiet mage, “it was a miracle the wound he sustained missed puncturing his stomach or intestines.  Some ribs needed resetting and he had his own head wound, but he is resting well now.”  Astlyr winced as she remembered standing with her friend as the monster had slashed at them. “You, broke your left arm in three places.  Your other arm was almost dislocated, but I found it to be badly strained and no more.  As to your leg; the wound missed the major artery there, or you would have bled to death before help found you.  Iron Bull and Cassandra were the worst,” Audra looked pained herself, “I freely admit they might have died if not for-”

“If not for a little magical assistance.” a familiar, if unexpected voice in the doorway got Astlyr's attention.

“Viv!” she exclaimed, and every muscle in her body protested.

The elegant mage strode into the room, her dark eyes kind.  Astlyr knew she was the only person who could get away with calling the enchantress 'Viv' and she smiled to herself.  Audra nodded in agreement with the woman's words, “Lady Vivienne arrived in time to help us.  She was able, along with our other mages, to repair the damage to Iron Bull and Cassandra's internal organs.  Otherwise...they would not have survived.”

“You are lucky indeed,” Vivienne said, a smile on her lips, “that I was already on my way back to Skyhold.  I had plans to stay the winter and help your mages gain some discipline, as their circle is no longer there for them.”  She did not speak bitterly, though Astlyr knew she disapproved of disbanding the mage circles.

“Thank the Maker!” Cullen fairly charged into the room.  His weary face was lined with concern, but hopeful.  He rushed to Astlyr, giving her a once over his his eyes before seeming satisfied that she was not going to die on the spot.  Then he pulled up a chair and plopped down at her side.  She noted that his arm was bandaged, but no longer in a sling.  She wondered how long she had been unconscious.

“Well, look who's alive,” Astlyr looked up in surprise to see Blackwall enter the room, arms folded, but a cheerful expression on his worn features.

“What are you doing here?” Astlyr questioned, smiling warmly.

“Well,” he gave her an expressive shrug and a slight smile.  “I told you that I was going to go aid in the rebuilding in the nearby villages, and I started out to do just that. A couple of the grey warnden lads stayed with me and...they kept talking about their calling and their important duty should a blight arise and it got me thinking.  All this time I've been pretending to be a warden, and now that my true identity is known by more than just myself I got up the nerve to ask them...”

“You went through the joining?” Astlyr raised her eyebrows.

“I did,” the man nodded, looking proud.

“I've heard that it can kill you,” Asltyr pointed out.

“It can,” Blackwall looked no less pleased with himself.  “But I survived it, obviously.”

“I am very glad,” Astlyr gave him her biggest grin.

“Any road, I was back to helping with the rebuilding when I got word that some of ours had been in a bad skirmish and I came to make sure everyone was alright.”

“Some of us almost weren't” the Inquisitor glanced wanly across the room towards her friends on the beds.

“Don't fuss about that now, my dear,” said Vivienne, “they will live, thanks to a good deal of magical intervention and skill.  I must say, it is perhaps better that so many mages have remained here.  It is good to have those with great power feeling grateful to you,” her smile had an edge to it, but Astlyr ignored this.  She was far too pleased to be alive and surrounded by her friends.

“Ah, you are awake.  Cole nearly scared me to death, waking me up with his freezing cold hand on my arm,” Josephine came in next, her long nightdress swishing around her legs.  Her black, curly hair was down, falling perfectly around her shoulders.  Astlyr idly wondered why her own hair was always such a mess when Josie's could look like that right out of bed.

Finally Sera marched into the room, her arms folded and her expression dangerous.  Cole followed timidly behind her, shrugging when the others gave him a look.  “She told me to let her know as well.  She doesn't like me, so it was difficult for her to ask.”

Sera balled her hand into a fist and slammed it into Astlyr's shoulder, “THAT was for almost dying!” she snarled.

She was so loud that Myfanwy, who was sleeping in a bed beside that of the young man who had been her brother, woke with a start, then glared at Sera suspiciously.

Before anyone could object, or pull Sera away from their inquisitor Astlyr, smiled grimly, “Point taken,” she said, meeting the blond elf's eyes.

Everyone slowly settled around the room.  They were admittedly rather noisy and the healers glared as they tended their patients.  Varric woke and reassured everyone that he was doing well.  Cullen explained that Astlyr had been out for three days.  In that time Varric had woken up and explained all that he could remember, though his version was limited.

“How did you find us?” Astlyr asked, taking the warm cup of tea that a healer was offering her and sipping slowly.  Cole, who was sitting on the side of her bed, occasionally reached over to touch one of her arms when the pain became bad.

Cullen smiled wanly.  He had a night's worth of stubble on his jaw and looked somehow older in the dim light of the  room.  “Your horse made good time back to us and I saw the red banner on his saddle so I mobilized my men immediately.  Once in the Emerald Graves we encountered some...travelers,” Astlyr knew he meant bandits and a grin twitched on her own lips.  “We er...compensated them for their trouble and they told us that there had been the sound of what they had assumed was a dragon, as well as some unnatural weather happening, not far from us.”

“You hear 'dragon' and naturally think 'that must be where the Inquisitor is?'” Varric joined in, looking jovial for someone with a bandage on his head.

“You'd be surprised how often that is true,” Cullen chuckled, his face brightening slightly.  “We found you in that valley.  Some of your were barely alive,” Cullen looked down at his hands in his lap.  “Varric told us that Solas summoned something?  A demon?”

“It would seem that way,” Astlyr said, clenching her hand around her cup so that her left arm began to throb.  Cole gently wrested the cup from her grip.  “I think Solas was being controlled somehow.  Maybe by that other elf, Celwydd?  I didn't think he was a mage, but maybe it was something else.  An artifact perhaps?”

“Or maybe old baldy-elf just betrayed us,” Sera pointed out, tucking up her feet so she was sitting on a bed with her knees up to her chin.

“I suppose we can't discount it,” Astlyr said quietly.

“Solas looks up as I enter and a smile comes to his fond face.  'My friend,' he says, and I know he means it.  Warm, like sunlight on my skin.  Smells of field flowers and cool streams.  Others fear me, but this one trusts me, and tells me to try.” Cole said, meeting Astlyr's eyes.  “You made him happy, Astlyr,” the boy asserted firmly.

“Solas doesn't seem like the type to betray us.  My money's on mind control.” Varric said, folding his hands in his lap.

“I read your report on the last demon he wanted you to help,” Josie began rifling through some of the papers she always carried on her special hand-held board.  She didn't find what she was searching for and she looked up, pursing her full lips, “what I mean is: the last time you encountered a demon at Solas' bidding, he was attempting to help a good spirit.  Could he had been trying to do this again?”

Astlyr shook her head, “you didn't see him right before the creature attacked us.  He wasn't himself.  And the demon just let him walk right past and leave without being harmed.  I think whatever that giant fucker was, it was controlling him somehow.”

“So what do we do then?” Sera asked, cocking her head so her uneven hair fell over her eye.

“We try to find him,” Astlyr said.  “We have to try to help him if we can.”

“And kill 'im if we can't, right?” Sera rocked back, holding her feet together with her hands.

“Yes.” Cole's voice was cold and it startled the group.  “If he is a demon we have to kill him,” he fixed his unnerving gaze on Astlyr again and she found she had to look away.

“For once you and me agree, creepy,” Sera said sitting back up.

“We have men out searching,” Cullen nodded thoughtfully.  His hand rubbed his stubbly chin.  “We're having another situation which is hampering our efforts, however.”

“What now?” Astlyr felt annoyance prickling.  It was always something.

“Snow,” Blackwall explained.  “Ever since your horse came back it has been snowing.  Not a problem at first, but it's been going non stop.”

“Caravans are having trouble getting to Skyhold,” Josephine spoke as she balanced her writing board on her knees, checking over her notes.  “My contacts have been slow to arrive as well.  We are currently somewhat cut off.”

“We're not completely cut off yet,” Cullen raised a hand when Astlyr moved as if to rise.  “People can still get in and out, but it is challenging, and Skyhold wasn't quite...winterized.  A few of the disused rooms have snow in them, and we are finding that the outer rooms are too cold for habitation, but we're figuring it out.  Just growing pains from our first winter here.”

Astlyr sighed.  She could see the worry on the tough warrior's face, though he tried not to show it.  She saw him shoot Cole a warning look.  “And I imagine it is difficult to track anyone with all this fresh fall,” she filled in.

“Exactly.” Cullen nodded.

“What about the big fuck-off monster?” asked Sera.  “What happened?  Did it just think you were dead and wander away to have a little nap someplace?  Or maybe you did enough damage that it left to go die, yeah?  Either way, hard to miss, right?”

“We're not certain what happened to the creature that attacked you,” Josephine admitted.  “Did you see it leave?”

“No,” Astlyr admitted, “I passed out.”  She wasn't certain if she wanted to tell them about the green magic that had protected Dorian and herself.  She glanced down at her palm where the anchor was as uninteresting as ever.  However, as she flexed her fingers, she felt a prickle.  Like she had burned her palm.  This was new.  When she closed a rift the pain usually subsided at once.

“You said you freed the creature by using your mark?” Vivienne asked, noticing that Astlyr was studying her hand.

“My mark, and Solas' magic.  He said that the anchor is many things.  This time it as though it was draining energy from me.  It doesn't feel like that when I close a rift,” she clarified.

“That right there,” Sera folded her arms, “is when you stop doing whatever you're  doing.  When the freaky magic starts stealing your energy.”

“I've never seen my mark do anything but open and close rifts,” Astlyr scrutinized the anchor.  It looked like the outline of a veil tear, etched in dark green on her skin.  “He said it runs through me.  It's connected to every part of me.  I always wondered why Coryphius didn't just lop my hand off back in Haven.  If he wanted it, why not take it?  I guess he couldn't.”

“Seems so,” Vivienne stood back, tall and elegant as ever.  Even her night attire was nicer than anything Astlyr owned.

“You said that the broken orb was there too?” Josie asked, quill pen now poised over paper.

“Yes,” Astlyr nodded.  “I think he would have used that instead of me, if it hadn't shattered.”

“All this magic,” Sera rolled her eyes expressively.  “Doesn't anyone just do things any more?”

No one bothered to answer her as they all fell silent, pondering.  Finally Cullen spoke, “Well, it should not be difficult to locate a creature of the size you fought.  We'll find it eventually.”

“It was a person before, yeah?  Maybe it's a person again,” Sera suggested.

“That's not how demons work,” Varric answered her.  “And believe me, I've seen plenty.  They never go back to being people.”

“Maybe it wasn't a demon.” Sera pouted out her lower jaw.  “Maybe it was a dragon-person like what's-her-boobs.  The one who turned into a dragon in that final fight with Cory.”

“Morrigan?” Cullen raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah.  Her,” Sera waved a dismissive hand.  She seemingly deemed names of more than two syllables not worth her time.

“I suppose it is possible,” Josephine agreed.  “We could have someone draw a picture based on the man you saw before he turned into the...whatever he turned into.”

“I'm not sure if I can recall him very well,” Astlyr admitted.  “I only saw him for a minute or two, and after that my attention was distracted by trying  not to get eaten or stomped on.”

“When the rest of our friends recover, they can help,” Josephine said, her voice hopeful.  Obviously she thought her idea a good one.

“They all we need to do is get out past all this snow to show people the picture,” Blackwall pointed out, a little glumly.  “Though I was thinking of trying to get some men together to check the surrounding area.  I know of people whose homes are in bits.  They are not ready for such an aggressive early winter.  I could take some of your pictures then.”

“Alright,” Astlyr yawned, “I think we have a basic plan.  Now, my brain is going to melt out my ears if we keep talking so late.  Get some sleep everyone.  We'll discuss this further in the morning.”

Nodding and stretching the group dispersed.  Even Cole moved away to sit on a bed, injured leg stretched in front of him, the book Astlyr had given him open in his lap.  As Cullen rose stiffly from his chair to follow the others Astlyr got his attention.  “Cullen,” she searched his weary features.  “Have you slept?”

He gave a dry chuckle and sat back down with a graceless motion.  He reached up a hand and massaged his temples.  “A little.”

“I know how you are,” Astlyr shook her head in dismay.  “With all that's been going on you've been insisting on micromanaging everything.  You need to delegate more.  Like me.  I delegate to you,” she smirked, hoping he would smile.  She was rewarded only with a slight upturn of his lips.

“I've had a few rough lyrium nights,” he said, dismissive.

“Cullen.  Look at me.”  He lifted his head, hazel eyes meeting her green.  “You need to rest, alright?  We're back, and we're not going to die, and anyway Skyhold is covered in snow.  I give you permission to hide out in my room if you like.  I won't be using it for a few days,” she nodded towards herself, “I can't even sit up in a bed without help, let alone climb stairs.”

Cullen gave her a small chuckle, still gazing at her with a kind of calmness that had not been on his face before.  “Perhaps I will.”

“No,” she said, her lip quirking in a half grin, “no 'perhaps'.  It's an order.  Yes.  An order from your Inquisitor.  I'm still the big dog around here right?  I order you to hide out and rest.”

“Yes ma'am,” he said in a quiet tone, making a playful salute with his good arm.  He stood slowly, no longer looking quite as beaten down.  He met her eyes again before leaving the room and gave her a nod.  “Good sleep, my friend.”

She nodded back as he turned and departed.  Astlyr heaved a sigh.  Cole looked up from his book.  “He's afraid.  Eyes are always on him.  Faces turned up and waiting, wanting, watching for orders.  He tells them how to survive, but he's not certain how to himself.”

“I know,” Astlyr said, heart feeling heavy.

“You and he are afraid of the same thing,” Cole's voice was matter-of-fact.  “Everyone else thinks you have already lived up to expectations.”  Astlyr could just make out his drawn smile from across the room.

“Maybe,” she chuckled.  “But new expectations are always being made.  Cole, can you help Cullen sleep with your power?”

“Yes, but he has asked me not to do that sort of thing with him,” Cole seemed a little upset.  “I do not understand when people ask me not to help them.  People here at Skyhold see me, and remember me, so I cannot help them as easily.”

“Your friends see and remember you,” Astlyr's voice was soft.  “I think that's a good thing.”

“It is,” Cole nodded, his hat flopping.  “But I do not understand why some of my friends wish to feel pain when I could help them.”

Astlyr considered this for a moment.  “You often do little things to help people overcome their pain on their own.  Perhaps some of us like to do those little things for ourselves.”

Cole nodded again, turning back to his book.  She was uncertain if he understood, or had decided this topic too confusing to continue.  She looked down at her arms.  Two useless hunks of flesh and shattered bone.  She knew they would heal, but they could never do it fast enough to please her.  She had to get out of bed and start seeing to Skyhold.  She couldn't let Cullen handle things on his own, as he clearly had been.  Without her, without Cassandra, to aid him, the warrior would wear himself down to nothing.

“Astlyr,” a voice hissed to her.

She blinked, turning her head to see Dorian's dark eyes watching her.  She took in a quick breath, surprised to see him awake.  “Dorian?”

“Shh,” he urged her.  “I don't want to be fussed over.  I want to talk to you.” the mage said, furtively.

Astlyr carefully and painstakingly scooted to the edge of her bed to be nearer her friend.  He did not move much, and she suspected he was in considerably more pain than herself, as she leaned her head to listen for his soft voice.  She heard a quiet chuckle.  “You look fantastic.”

She felt a natural smile flicker to her lips, “not as fantastic as you.”

“Oh good,” he heaved a sigh, grimacing, “because I feel like someone put me in a sack and dragged me behind a horse.”

“Well, you look it.”

“Astlyr,” his face grew serious again as he spoke, “am I crazy?  I remember something right before we passed out.  I said something stirring about a blaze of glory and then...”

“We grabbed each others hands,” Astlyr filled in, looking down at her hand on the bed.

“Right.  And when we did, something happened.  Maybe I was just hallucinating?  I was in a considerable amount of pain, but somehow I felt as though an energy was passing from you into me.  Not like lyrium.  It was like something else.  Something I have never experienced.”

“So I didn't imagine it either?” she felt relieved.  “I think what happened with me and the mirror happened with us.”

“Yes, but it has never happened before that.  I've never felt anything when I've stood beside you as you closed rifts,” Dorian muttered, clearly pondering.  He made a frustrated sound, this hissed in air through his teeth and winced, “Have you figured out how to not breath?  Because breathing is getting on my nerves,” he said, weakly.

“I healers could give you something,” Astlyr pointed out.  “Not to stop you breathing,” she put in hastily.  “Just to stop you hurting.”

“Those things always make me fuzzy,” he raised his hand fractionally to gesture towards his head.  “I wanted to be clear while we talked about this.  I've been a mage my whole life, and I've had the very best lyrium.  The really pure shit that makes you a little bit high and you think you just might be able to take over the world.  Never anything like what I felt when we were touching hands.”

“Maybe my touch is just that powerful,” Astlyr grinned.

“Oh hush, you,” Dorian scolded, “I am trying to be serious and I have the sarcastic qunari to talk to.

“I'm sorry,” Astlyr made a show to contorting her face into a mask of civility.

“No.  That's worse,” Dorian smirked, “a well behaved qunari is almost as rare as sarcastic one.”

“So,” Astlyr said, thoughtful, “you've never felt power like the green stuff that we seemed to generate when we were holding hands.  Alright.  So let's try it again.”  She carefully slid her splinted arm down to reach between the beds.  She winced as pain shot up her limb, and hoped Cole had enough sense to leave them alone for the moment.

“Oh good,” Dorian eased his own hand towards hers, “nothing like a little experimenting with powerful magics when we're both beaten within an inch of our lives.”

“Just shut up and hold my hand,” she quipped, feeling her fingers interlace with his.  His warm palm pressed against the anchor mark.  Both lay as still as they could, watching their joined hands as though waiting for a fireworks show.

“How long do we hold hands before we decide this isn't working?” Dorian asked after a long moment of awkwardness.

Astlyr considered.  “Maybe it matters what you're thinking about.  With the archway Solas told me to concentrate on my task.  Maybe we need to be think of the same thing.  What was on your mind when we...did whatever we did.”

“I believe I was thinking: 'Oh Maker, oh maker, I'm going to die and I've never been in love.'” Dorian smirked.

“Hmmmm, as I recall I was thinking basically the same thing.”

“You've never been in love?” Dorian cocked his head slightly on his pillow, “what about Iron Bull?”

“Oh, I love Iron Bull, and the sex is fantastic,” she raised her eyebrows meaningfully and Dorian snorted, “But I don't think I'm in love with him.”

“I see,” Dorian's brows came together, “Erm, Astlyr, m'gel, if we are going to keep having this conversation can we stop awkwardly holding hands?”

“Oh, sorry.  We seem to have a focus problem,” she chuckled, “alright, this time I'll concentrate on giving you energy and I suppose you should concentrate on receiving it.”

“Er, alright,” Dorian said, uncertainly.

Astlyr closed her eyes trying to convince her ever busy mind that it needed to buckle down to one subject and one subject only.  Alright, mysterious powers.  I need you to go to my friend Dorian over there.  I command you to go.  Please go?  She opened one eye, hoping to see their clasped hands glowing green.  No such luck, though one of the guards had noticed their attempts and was eying them confusedly.  “Maybe we need to be closer to death.  Do you suppose one of the guards would stab me with a dagger. Just a little?”

Dorian's eyes popped open and he glared at her.  “Stop joking around,” he said, though he had obvious trouble keeping his smile under control.  His mustache twitched comically.

The two let their hands fall away from each other.  Astlyr sighed, painfully pulling her arm back up beside her on the bed.  “Maybe I just don't have any energy to give you.”

“Perhaps.  Perhaps other requirements must be met.  It may be like one of those complicated spells that calls for material components.  I always hated those.  So much work for so little payoff.”

“If you say so,” Astlyr said, looking down at her hand, though she could barely make out her mark in the dimness.

“Alright,” Dorian sounded resigned, “now that we are finished with that experiment.  Ouch!” he announced loudly.  In seconds Cole had appeared at his side and was using his ability to lessen the mage's pain as two healers rushed to fussed over him.  He gave Astlyr a meaningful smirk and she laughed.

~~~~~

Healing was a slow process.  Not aided by Astlyr's natural affinity for being outdoors and moving.  The healers were almost as fed up with her as they had been with Cole.  The boy, for his part, seemed amused by her refusal to stay in bed when she had insisted that he do so.

“Inquisitor,” Audra pleaded for the third time that day, “The muscle of your leg was badly damaged.  If you walk on it before it's ready you'll do yourself more harm.  And would you stop using that broken arm?  Blast it!  You're never going to heal.”

Nights she walked in the Fade with the black wolf.  The creature now seemed glued to her side.  They had even ventured into some mountains one night in her dreams.  A shadowy spirit lurked there, watchful.  Fen'Harel sensed it at once and his fur bristled.  Gleaming teeth were bared and the spirit slunk away as if ashamed.  Often the wolf were nuzzle Astlyr's left hand, and her mark would spring to life, glowing the sickly green of Fade magic.  When she woke, however, it was only a matter of moments before the memories of her nightly sojourns with the wolf god would slip from her again.

Astlyr had come to know the Myfanwy a bit better in her days in the infirmary.  It seemed that the elivish woman has a skill with drawing, and soon Astlyr and her companions were describing the man they had seen to her so that she could make a sketch.  Now if only they could any of them agree on what the elf who had transformed into a giant dragon-creature had looked like.

“Astlyr got the best view of him, I believe,” said Cassandra, wrinkling her proud nose as Myfanwy sketched and re-sketched.

“I'd like to remind you that I had head trauma,” Varric pointed out.  “I can't be asked to remember things.”

Astlyr looked fondly from the warrior woman to the dwarf.  When Cassandra had woken the morning after Astlyr had she had asked to speak with Astlyr almost at once.  The qunari had been helped into a chair at her friend's bedside.  “Inquisitor,” Cas sounded formal, and she looked as stern as possible for someone suffering from crush wounds.  She also seemed to be having trouble finding the words she wanted.  “Inquisitor...” she began again, brows coming together,  “I... what I wanted to say to you was...Rrrrgh!” she made an aggravated sound then turned her head, “Cole, come here please,” she called to the spirit boy, who was helping one of the healers nearby.

“Yes, Cassandra?” Cole answered, setting down the bowl of herb infused water in which a healer had been soaking rags to lay across Iron Bull's brow.  He teleported over to stand at Cas's other side.

“Please tell the Inquisitor what I wish to say,” Cassandra instructed him.

Cole nodded, concentrated for a moment, and tilted his chin up so Astlyr could see his eyes under his hat brim.  “I broke formation.  I should not have.  It was stupid of me.  I want to be certain it never happens again.  I know I am better.  I am disappointed in myself.  Angry.  Like bees in my mind.  Swarming over and over that moment until I cannot forget.  Leaving little footprints in the marmalade.  I will not make that mistake again.”

“You went to protect Varric,” Astlyr pointed out, placing a hand on Cassandra's shoulder.

“It does not change the fact that I should have done as I was ordered,” Cas said, solemnly.  “It was a battle and I am a soldier.  I knew better.”

“Varric is my friend... and my responsibility,” Cole was speaking again.  “I brought him here.  Everything that happens to him after that is my fault.  Any injury is my doing.  I am to blame.  I will take...take the blame always on myself.”

Cassandra flinched, “alright,” she said tightly, “that is enough, Cole.  You were helpful.”

The boy nodded, though he looked worried.  Clearly he could tell that she was not pleased with him any more.

Astlyr glanced up subtly towards Varric's bed.  She felt certain she caught the flicker of his eyes snapping shut.  She did not say anything as the dwarf did a passable job of looking asleep.


Now Astlyr passed her days in relative bordom.  Josie made certain to stop in at least once every day to talk about what was going on with the rest of the world, at least what information she could get.  The blizzard which had gripped SkyHold lasted for three days and when it finally abated.  The task of highest import became that of digging out.  The road to the Hinterlands below the mountains where SkyHold perched was rendered completely impassible by snow and ice.  Some merchants had even become trapped at the fortress by the weather.  From what Astlyr heard, they were vocal in their complaint about this, but actually seemed to be enjoying the vacation as they ate and drank at SkyHold's popular tavern.

Most days Cullen made a point to visit with his chess board.  He would talk shop with Astlyr about the issues that they were having getting Skyhold up to snuff for the sudden winter.  She gave what advice she could, though she felt woefully inexperienced.

Dorian routinely beat everyone at chess, while Cullen and Astlyr were evenly matched.  “You could be better if you were more patient, my dear,” Vivienne told her once when the enchantress stopped in for a game.

“If I know one thing about Astlyr,” said Iron Bull, who was recovering slowly, his wounds having been the most severe, “it is that she is not a patient person.”

“Oh, thank you,” Astlyr rolled her eyes.

Everyone agreed that Cole was not allowed to play chess any more because he was able to predict their movement with accuracy.  The boy merely shrugged, saying he enjoyed watching as much as playing.

Guardswoman Jones had her watch over the unconscious elf every night,and she would spend some time chatting with the Inquisitor.  Astlyr enjoyed the woman's company immensely.  Esther Jones had taken up a fascination with Astlyr hair, and the qunari would often let her braid it.  “The color is so interesting.  Like strands of snow.” Jones said, sitting crosslegged behind Astlyr, who sat at the edge of her bed.  “I know most qunari have white hair, but I still find it so beautiful.”

Astlyr shrugged, “I suppose.  I often felt that it was boring.  No color, like other people's.  I have heard that some of my people have black hair, but I've never seen it.”  She didn't bother to clarify that this was because  the only other qunari she had seen up close were her own parents and Iron Bull.  Often she didn't even feel like a proper qunari at all.

“And it's so thick,” Jones went on, braiding skillfully.  Astlyr had learned that Jones had five younger sisters and she had always been in charge of their appearance, which included seeing to their hair.

Astlyr glanced across the room to see Myfanwy watching and smiling.  The elf's dark eyes shone in the low evening light from the fire and interspersed candles.

“I have a few of the beads my mother always wore in her hair up in my room.  Maybe I should go fetch them,” Astlyr offered the guardswoman.

“Oh, that would be wonderful,” Jones said.

A few of the nearby guards chuckled.  Dorian, who was sitting up reading, glancing over the top of his book, “you really are portraying a hardened warrior tonight, m'gel.”

“Shut your mouth, that's an order,” Astlyr snapped in her best military bark.  It would have done Cullen or Cassandra proud.

Dorian just laughed at her, eyes twinkling with mirth.  Then he retreated back behind his reading as Astlyr loudly muttered things about what they did with insubordinate mages in the inquisition.  Cole limped over to her.  He still used the cane, but his leg was significantly improved.  “I can go get the beads for you,” he offered.

Before he could teleport away Astlyr raised her hand in a forestalling motion.  “No, no, Cole.  I can manage.  Me being down here in the infirmary is mostly just a formality anyway.  Time to stretch the old legs a bit.”

“I don't want to see you using that arm,” Astlyr jumped.  She hadn't even known that Audra was paying attention.  The healer had seemingly been in conversation with Iron Bull.

“Of course,” Astlyr said, hurriedly, raising her eyebrows at Cole who gave her a fleeting smile before poofing away to join Audra.

Astlyr stood slowly, careful not to put much weight on her bad leg.  If she was honest it barely twinged.  Superior qunari healing ability and pain tolerance, she thought a little smugly as she limped from the room.  She took her time through the darkened SkyHold, careful stairs to go slowly on the stairs to spare her injured limbs any stress.  The place was quiet.  Even in the main hall, where some people were still sleeping for warmth near the large fireplaces, which were designed to heat higher floors with their massive chimneys.

Astlyr peered into the darkness of her quarters and knew at once that she was not alone.  Her instinct prickled for a moment, but she relaxed almost at once.  There was a figure on her bed.  She could just make out his golden hair in the moonlight from her tall windows.  The fire he had lit was guttering in the hearth and his dayclothes were folded neatly on one of her chairs.  She smiled as she tiptoed as best she could over to her dressing table.  She had to admit to herself that one of her main reasons for continuing to sleep in the infirmary was so that Cullen could continue to use her room as his haven.  It seemed clear that his men had not figured out that this was where he had been retreating to.

As she selected the hair beads from a special box on her dressing table she listened carefully to his breathing.  Deep and peaceful.  Good.  She turned and began to limp out, but hesitated as she reached the stairs, hand poised on the railing.  His face was turned towards her, washed with moonlight and she smiled at how restful he looked.  She did not often get to see him without a hard line of tension between his eyebrows.  For a moment she the urge to go to him and touch his face.  She almost laughed at herself for the thought, and limped carefully out of the room.

~~~~~

The next day found Dorian and Astlyr sitting on the same bed facing one another, attempting to get the odd magical power to work again.  “I really think this could be the answer to waking him up,” Dorian nodded in the direction of the slumbering elf.  Their unconscious guest was beginning to look wan now.  His cheeks becoming sunken.  The healers did their best to feed him and keep him hydrated, but their methods were imperfect.

“Why would a god sleep so long to regain power if it will kill the body he's inhabiting?” Astlyr asked, pressing her palm to Dorians.  She had stopped bothering to feel embarrassed as the others watched their awkward attempts.

“Remember that he doesn't need the body to be alive for it to function,” Cassandra pointed out.  She was half watching them, and half reading one of Varric's latest books.  Cole read over her shoulder, which she seemed to encourage, often asking him when he was ready to turn the page.

“I suppose,” Astlyr mused, “though being inside a dead bird didn't seem to be good for him.  I wonder if a dead person is the same.”

Myfanwy had lifted her head from her drawing and was looking at Astlyr with a deep sadness.  “Please do not let him die,” she said, her voice very small and quiet.

“What was that, Puppy?” Varric was stretched out on his bed, fingers laced behind his head as he relaxed.  He had given the elven woman one of his fond nicknames.  At first she had been insulted, but one of the guards explained that being given a nickname by Varric was actually a sign that she was seen as an ally by the group.

Myfanwy's face was suddenly drawn.  “I...I know that there is little of my brother left inside this body,” she cleared her throat.

“Do you want me to help?” asked Cole, gently.

“No,” the elf waved him off with a tentative motion, “I can speak for myself.  She swallowed and tried again.  “If the body dies, whatever is left of my brother...his memories, which the god might use, may be lost.  I do not wish to lose whatever of Daveth remains.  I know this is selfish,” she hung her head.

“Puppy,” Varric stood up and crossed to her, clearly shocking her as he wrapped her in a hug.  “No one wants you to have to give that up either.  Which is why the Inquisitor and her friends are working hard to wake him.”

Myfanwy bit her lip as she allowed herself to be embraced by the dwarf.  Astlyr could see anger behind the elf's eyes and she saw Cole flinch from across the room.  She knew that the woman was angry at her for not using the idol to wake 'Fen'Harel'.  She felt uncertain herself.  Perhaps she should have tried it.  There was a reasonable chance that it would not have killed any good spirits.  She glanced at Cole, taking in his slumped shoulders, his expression sadder than usual.  He could feel the conflicting worries and fears, and there was no way to help everyone in the room.  A look of pain crossed his face and he withdrew, hugging himself.

Astlyr felt her temper flare.  She pulled her hand away from Dorian's a rose with a motion that was just a little too quick.  Pain sliced up her leg, but she ignored it, limping over to stand at the bedside of the elf.

“What are you thinking, Kadan?” Iron Bull asked.  He was propped up with many pillows and had appeared to be dozing.

Astlyr didn't answer, but she felt her temper still flaring.  Anger with herself, and her lack of resolve.  Without thought she pressed her left palm, perhaps a bit too firmly, onto the chest of the unconscious elf.  Pain lanced up her broken arm and she felt the air huff from the supposed god's chest with her motion.  Myfanwy tensed, clearly using to a lot of restraint to keep herself from pulling Astlyr away.

Astlyr ground her teeth, glaring down at the slumbering figure.  “Listen here, pal.  We're had about enough of this!  If you're a god, you can bloody wake up and deal with whatever it is you gods have to deal with, and you can leave me and friends alone if it's all the same.  So, wake the fuck up!”

To everyone's shock, not the least of which Astlyr's, a bright green light sprang to life from beneath her hand.  Tendrils of emerald electricity jumped and sparked from between her fingers.  She jerked back in surprise, but found, as it had been with the stone prison from which they had freed the dragon-man, she could not remove her hand.  Her friends and the guards moved closer.

“Astlyr?” Dorian asked, tentatively.

“Yes?” she spoke between gritted teeth.  She could feel the pull.  Her energy being drawn from her and towards the man on the bed.

“How are you doing that?”

“I have no idea,” she ground out.  She already felt breathless, as if she had gone for a good run.  The elf was drawing her energy from her with much more speed than the stone doorway had.  Seconds later her legs felt weary and she had to fight to remain standing.  The man did not move as the green light from her hand washed over him, sparking and coiling, splashing both their faces with an emerald glow.

“Can we make it stop?” Cole asked, appearing beside Astlyr.  She felt the boy grip her good arm, helping her stand.  He placed her hand on his shoulder so she could use him to prop herself up, though she was careful not to put too much weight on him because of his leg.

Then someone else stepped in, pulling Astlyr's arm over a slender shoulder.  It was Myfanwy, “what can we do?”

“I don't know,” Astlyr managed.  Because of her awkward position leaning over the man it was all she could do not to overbalance and fall forward onto him.  Myfanway was clearly giving it her best effort to keep the much taller and heavier Astlyr upright.  A guard moved closer and stood on the other side of the bed, extending a hand to Astlyr's shoulder, he helped prop her upright.  She bit back a sound of annoyance.  The greedy fucker was taking all her energy.  It felt as though she had not eaten in days.  She knew she was visibly shaking.  She could feel her friends drawing near, uncertain and worried.  And still the elf pull more strength from her.  She tried to take her hand away and only succeeded in making her arm pound with pain.  “Fen'Harel,” her voice was small and strangled.  “Stop...please.”

Her hand was released and she toppled to the floor, almost landing on Myfanwy.  She scrambled to her hands and knees, aided by Cole and a few more of the guards.  Then she heard the familiar sound of swords being drawn and felt the crackle of magic being readied.  She pulled herself to her knees using the bed and peered at the elf on the mattress.  He twitched, then spasmed, back arching, hands grappling with the sheets.  He made a strangled sound, then went limp.  Finally, as she watched, his eyes opened and he blinked slowly.

Astlyr felt herself being pulled backwards.  Two guards had her under her arms and were attempting to get her clear.  “No.  Wait,” she gasped as the elf gazed around himself with only his eyes.

Then he turned his head towards her, and she met his gaze.  Blue.  His eyes were blue, just like the wolf in her dreams.  Just like...  He spoke.  Something in elvish she could not understand.  His words seemed mumbled.  Garbled, even for a language she didn't speak.  Astlyr looked to Myfanwy, who was standing back, mouth agape.  A single tear left a trail down the elvish woman's fair cheek.  “What did he say?” Astlyr asked.

“I don't know,” Myfanwy admitted.  “It's not the language my people speak.  Some sounds are the same, but...”

“Mmmm,” the man on the bed seemed to be trying again.  His eyes locked on Astlyr, brow tight with concentration or pain, she wasn't certain which.  “Mmmm-my fr-friend.” he managed to croak.  Astlyr was positive this time, and she could tell by the gasps of surprise that she heard from her friends, that he was indeed spoken with the voice of Solas.