#Tunan Lavellan

[strivingscribe]

ILIC ~ CH 29

It’s Lost Its Charm by  MsMoon

Chapter 29 ~ the Morning After

Chapters: 29/?

Chapter Navigation: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15,16, 17, 18,19,20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29,

Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age,

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Violence,

Relationships: I feel like it’s a little early for that…

Summary: As dreams went, she supposed being inside Dragon Age wasn’t too bad… At least she wasn’t the Herald (again). Or the Warden (again). Or Hawke (again).

Notes: Hope you guys enjoy this one :)

First came the smell, though even that wasn’t what woke her. Not quite anyway. Her stomach echoed with a sharp pang to the smell of cooked meat, but what really woke her was the sound. The rusted creak of the door opening and closing, the subtle rattle of a utensil on a plate...soft cloth.

Her eyes pried open, thankful of the dim light. Drifting slowly to her left... her eyes landed on Sam, asleep upright in a chair. His hair was a riot, and his five o’clock shadow had transitioned into ten o’clock scruff.

She cast her gaze around the room, finally noting where the sound was coming from.

“Syra?” she whispered, leveling up on an elbow. The little servant from the kitchens with ash-blonde hair. She was high-stepping over something on the floor before Amy's guttural voice snapped those enormous blue eyes of her up front and center.

“Oh! Amy!” she whispered in a rush, half skipping to the bed. Luckily, instincts honed from long hours in the kitchen kept the plate of food she carried aloft and balanced. “oh! Amy! When we heard what happened we were so worried! Are you hungry?” this confession and question were both rushed one after the other, leaving Amy more than a little confused. There was a joke to be had about care-takers equating health, worry, and food all together... but who had the time for that?

Amy sat up, surprised at the strange union of opposites she felt. She was, at the same time, vital and waning. Weak and strong. Hungry and repulsed at the thought of food.

“I...think I should take it slow.” she determined. “Is everything else going well?”

Syra set the plate of food down on the side table and wrung her hands in her apron a bit. “As well as can be expected. I was sent to rouse Master Trevelyon… He’s had a rough time of it, but being just past eight bells...it’s time he was awake.” the girl’s eyes scattered about the room. “Not sure about your... others here though…”

“Others?”

“The elves sleepin’ on your floor.” she said, motioning towards the foot of the bed. Amy’s frown deepened as she interpreted what Syra was saying. “Shall I bring meals for them as well?”

Amy nodded. “Please do.” she tugged the blankets off, surprised to find her legs bare…. the dress she’d been given was still on, even if a touch rucked up. It hit just above her knees, so she was covered… Why would anyone remove her…

...breeches?

She suddenly wondered if Sera were nearby.

“I’ll wake everyone.” Amy promised. Syra nodded and hopped out of the room.

“Sam.” Amy called softly. He took a deep breath but barely stirred at all. Amy leaned into a standing position, staggering forward a bit before coming to the side of Sams chair. “Sammy, it’s time to wake up.” she said, combing his hair out of his face with gentle fingers.

His head tossed back a bit as he stretched, his spine arching away from the chair back before he relaxed again. Weary eyes cracked open, half-lidded from sleep. It was nothing but naked exhaustion until shock rounded his eyes.

“Amy!” he breathed.

“Morning.” she murmured, stepping away, till she was seated on the bed again. She didn’t want to perch here too long, but she didn't want to push herself either. 

She winced in surprise her arms drawing up and away as Sam slid forward, landing on his knees by her bedside, his arms wrapping around her waist as he buried his face against her hip.

“Thank the Maker.” his voice was rusted, from fear or relief, Amy wasn’t sure. “Solas was livid. He kept saying things like ‘irreparable damage’ and ‘unprecedented fallout’.”

Amy let her hand rest on the curve of his head, hoping to comfort him.

“And Siheta? Bax?”

“Bax had no answers, just wide eyes. Siheta was… she tried to rally for us.”

“Solas is an excellent voice of caution. He understands that potential doesn’t always translate into something that isn’t harmful. Siheta is a comfort because she understands that something that starts bad doesn’t always stay that way.”

She felt him relax before his head snapped up. He drew back, avid gaze never leaving her face.

“You’re talking.”

She smiled. “So it would seem.”

He let out a startled breath that could’ve been a laugh.

“It’s going to be ok.” she assured, her hand drifting down to his shoulder. “Now, help me wake the others.”

She’d wanted to help but she ended up leaning over the footboard of the bed while Sam knelt to shake Tunan awake ...this began a domino effect, as Tunan shook Tunen awake, and Tunen was spooning Magpie. Amy lingered over the footboard, too afraid that once she got on the floor, she’d need help getting back up again.

Once awake, and to the point where she was aware of Amy, Magpie sprung up, nearly knocking Sam over to climb on the bed.

“You’re awake! And...better?” Magpie asked.

Amy nodded. “Sorry to trouble you.”

Magpie blinked, shaking her head in a slight double-take. “You’re...you sound great!”

“Another fantastic discovery.” she said, half leaning back against Sam’s shoulder as he docked on the side of the bed behind her. “We should let Leliana know…”

“I’m more concerned with breakfast.” Tunen grumbled, rubbing her eyes.

“That should be on the way.” Amy assured. “Why are all of you on the floor?”

“Because Maggie wouldn’t leave, and there were a lot of opinions about touching.” Tunen complained, half crawling to the other side of the bed until she could climb her way into a standing position...then...she just...toppled over like a tree that had been felled for lumber.

Her brother watched this without surprise or judgement, before rising and rolling up the abandoned bedrolls.

Luckily that was when the door opened, and a very bouncy Syra looped through. Miraculously, the multiple plates of food she carried remained undisturbed.

“Thank you, Syra.” Amy said.

“Yes.” Tunan murmured, taking a couple of plates from her. “Thank you.” he murmured before bringing it around to his sister.

“Oh, don’t mention it.”

“If it isn’t too much trouble?” Amy began.

“Yes?” Syra’s voice was eager, poised like the bands of a slingshot, ready to spring.

“If you wouldn’t mind quietly telling Leliana that I’m awake?”

Syra blinked owlishly, before leaning in and asking. “Should anyone else know?”

Amy thought about that before replying… “Perhaps...not yet.” when Syra nodded, Amy Smiled. “Thank you, dear.”

“This is exciting!” she chirped. “Happy to help.” and then she darted away.

“Kitchen staff…. they’re always hellishly busy… I almost feel bad.” Amy murmured.

“Please.” Magpie grunted around a sausage. “Any break from the kitchens is a good thing.”

Amy nodded. The Inquisition had a lot of people to feed.

“Well… Good morning, everyone.”

Amy felt Sam chuckle behind her, which was startling. It was then that she was struck by how common it had become…. that is... Sam never let anyone touch him. This prolonged contact felt shocking. She recalled the feeling of pins and needles any time Sam was very close before now… it was gone. Had this been some sort of energy from the mark? If so, how did it connect with her?

“So… you’re all better?” Sam asked, his voice hedged by uncertainty.

Amy considered the question as she considered the porridge Magpie was pushing her way.

“Getting there.” She announced at last. “A little shaky, but no bouts of overwhelming agony.”

A breath puffed Sam up and deflated him in the next second.

“So… if you’d touched the mark months ago, you would’ve been fine?”

Amy shrugged. “Impossible to say now. Maybe it would’ve killed me. Maybe I needed time to adjust...or maybe I would’ve gotten over it in the same amount of time.” she shook her head. “If what Siheta and I have discussed has taught me anything… it’s that the physical world does its best to adapt around the veil. That which doesn't adapt, changes… it’s equal parts skill, resilience, and luck.”

“But, you are feeling ok… right?” Tunan asked.

“I probably need to take it slow. Drink plenty of water and have easy foods.”

Magpie pushed a cup of water into her hands, and Amy laughed softly. She took tiny sips, then paused for any reaction from her stomach… when none came, she followed those sips with gulps. She felt the muscles in her face relax, and knew she was probably fine (even if a touch dehydrated). She still felt a little breathless, but… she would build up those reserves again.

A loud thunk clunked through the room before the door creaked open and closed again. Leliana wafted into a room of people watching Amy drink water…

“You certainly know how to keep people on the edges of their seats.” she remarked.

“Let’s hope it’s a phase.” Amy half groaned. “I won’t speak for the rest of you, but I don’t think I can take much more of this.”

Leliana’s eyebrows brose, a new light in her eyes. “You do sound much improved.”

Amy nodded. “Small favors. Our debriefing sessions have been painful on both sides, I know.”

In the time Sam had been gone to scout for Skyhold, Amy and Leliana had hidden away in her private quarters. Amy dictating information which she wrote in her own hand, and Leliana scribbling it down in the Thedosian equivalent. While Leliana never complained about this arrangement, Amy’s broken speech had been aggravating for Amy if nothing else.

“I assume today will be a day of recovery.” Leliana murmured, and she didn’t even sound resentful about it. Leliana had been accommodating in their interactions, but Amy wasn’t sure if this was because Amy had useful secrets, or because Leliana cared about Amy as a person. Still, she searched for hope.

“Yes.” Sam said, a strange firmness stiffening his tone. It reminded Amy of Conner when he tried to use ‘dad-voice™’ to convey authority.

Leliana only nodded in response. “What are your plans for the day?”

“Plans?” Sam asked, confused.

“A slow tour, I think.” Amy supplied, getting a sigh from Sam. The man’s eyes drifted closed, as he silently prayed for endurance.

“That’s 5 gold you owe me.” Magpie announced in triumph.

“That wasn’t a real bet.” Sam grumbled, still not opening his eyes.

“Would it be a real bet if you’d won?” Magpie snarked.

“Wench.”

“Children.” Amy admonished, before returning to her conversation with Leliana. “Most likely a very slow tour.”

Leliana nodded. “We should begin spreading word of your recovery. Not that it would stop everyone from working themselves into a frenzy upon seeing you.”

Amy nodded. “I imagine keeping it simple won’t curtail any flights of fantasy.”

“It hasn’t worked for me.” Sam muttered.

“Another brick in the myth of the Herald.” she bemoaned. Amy smiled, trying to accept this with as much grace as possible. “We shouldn’t begrudge them the stories they need to tell themselves in order to have hope.”

“I just wish those stories weren’t about me.” Sam groused.

“Now you know how Hawke feels.” Amy murmured. Amy felt herself tense up when Sam leaned over and embraced her. “Uh… Sammy?... I’m not wearing any breaches.” she murmured.

Sam drew back, staring at her in shock. “You’re not…. what?” He leaned forward, lifting the bottom of the blanket she was wrapped in near her ankle, revealing a very bare calf.

He looked back up at her, meeting her gaze before they both muttered, “Sera.” at almost exactly the same time.

“Perhaps now is a good time to mention that Madam Vivienne has been asking after your condition.” Leliana informed, a smirk tugging at her mouth. “It seems she’s seeing your latest escapade as a reason to provide you with new clothing.”

Amy’s eyes drifted toward the ceiling. “Thank Zod.” She murmured in a sigh of relief. Her eyes darted to Sam, who looked surprised at her words before she turned back to Leliana. “Leliana, I’m going to pose a scenario to you, because I’m uncertain exactly what I should do.”

Leliana’s eyebrows rose, but she only nodded as if to say, ‘go on’.

“Without indebting or ingratiating myself to Madame de Fer, I would like to make it clear that her counsel is appreciated in all things. That being said, I cannot stress enough how much I want her help in attaining...better clothing.”

And at that, Leliana did smile. And it was not cruel or patronizing in the slightest.

“Depending on how quickly you would like to go about this, I could send a servant with a message expressing your desire to meet with her and to inquire when she may expect to receive you.” she offered, and Amy found it a strange mixture of touching and curious. She couldn’t help but wonder why Leliana seemed so pleased to be helpful...

“Orlesians.” Sam groaned.

“Madame de Fer isn’t native to Orlais,” Amy informed. “...it’s simply the country in which she thrives.” She let out a deep breath, her eyes pinning Sam in place. “And that attitude of yours is unbecoming.” she added, sounding much like a big sister fussing at a younger brother. “It would serve you well to recall that many people make up this Inquisition. Vital, necessary people of diverse backgrounds and skills, and all of them bring….” Amy’s mouth tilted in a frown as she shrugged, “Je ne sais quoi… but they bring it to us.”

Sam blinked rapidly at her.

“What...what did you just say?” Magpie asked in the resounding stillness. “That phrase? What was it?”

“I don’t know what.” Amy responded.

“What you just said. The Genis ayqua.” Magpie clarified, or tried to.

Amy’s eyes scrunched up as she huffed little laughs around the phrase. “Free shavak ado.”

“What??” Sam's aghast cry was betrayed by the joy tugging at his lips and the light shining in his eyes. “What are you on about, you mad, mad woman?”

Leliana laughed softly with her, and the elves and Sam continued to stare between the two of them.

“We’ve lost them.” Tunan observed, his tone dull as it was blunt. He sighed, looking over at his sister, who seemed ready to fall asleep again.

Amy cleared her throat. “Sorry. ‘Je ne sais quoi’ is...” she almost said ‘French’, then thought perhaps Orlesian was a better term… but stopped herself, because she wasn’t certain about dialects or accents or...anything really. “….it means ‘I don’t know what’. It’s...My mother would say it often. Usually, to ambiguously describe a quality a person had that was just… just something, but it was unnamable.”

“Very aptly put.” Leliana murmured, still smiling, though it was more reserved than before. Still… she’d expressed more joy in Amy’s presence this morning than Amy had ever seen of her. It made Amy ...hopeful. “I will have your request sent to her, and you can most likely expect a response within the hour. She will undoubtedly send a servant with information of when she’d like to expect you, and we can go from there. Though… I don’t know if it’s entirely necessary. You are both in the same camp. Still. She will look kindly on the gesture of gentility.”

“Oh… she will.” Amy said with a nod. “I also don’t want to imply that I’m superior to her, or beneath her in any way.” Amy explained, her eyes drifting to the bedding. “This simple civility would be a way to do that.”

She didn’t see Sam rolling his eyes, still unimpressed with the Orleasian frippery.

“But…” this break in the conversation came from Magpie. “I mean, I get why you want to start moving about, but…” her face slipped into an uneasy grimace. “A full tour?”

“Oh, no. Absolutely not. I can’t walk the entire field, I don’t think.” Amy soothed, and both Magpie and Sam seemed to breathe a little easier at that admission. “I certainly don’t want to try. Cullen might just pull his hair out if I caused that much of a disruption.”

“You might be surprised.” Sam grumbled, staring absently at nothing. “He’ll most likely be in a generous mood where you’re concerned.”

Amy blinked, not entirely clear in Sam’s meaning.

“He was very worried for you, Amy.” Magpie announced. “All of the soldiers were.”

“I don’t doubt that, but that doesn’t mean…” Amy sighed. “Especially now, when I’m not sure of my limits, I think I’ll be avoiding the field until specifically summoned.”

“Safe bet.” Tunan muttered. “Where do you think you’ll need us?”

Amy looked from him to his slumped over twin. “Why don’t you two stay and sleep in on an actual bed.” Amy proposed.

Tunan’s mouth hung open slightly as he tried to think of a response. Tunen beat him to it. “I can get behind that.” her words vibrated through the blankets beneath her face as she tried to burrow under them. Amy couldn’t help but smile at the display.

“Are you sure we can’t convince you to take a bit of a lay-in as well?” Magpie nearly pleaded.

“Might take a nap later on in the day if things get rough. But… we gotta start sometime.” Amy shook her head, feeling that tightness in her chest again as she thought of everything that needed to be done. “And oh, Scooby Dooby-doo, we’ve got work to do now.”

[msmoonicorn]

Figured it wouldn’t be a bad thing to display the twin Lavellans I’d just introduced :) I know technically they only just popped in, but here are the Tues :3

[strivingscribe]

ILIC ~ ch 27

It’s Lost Its Charm by  MsMoon

Chapter 27 ~ Between Niflheim and Muspelheim

Chapters: 27/?

Chapter Navigation: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15,16, 17, 18,19,20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27,

Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age,

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Violence,

Relationships: I feel like it’s a little early for that…

Summary: As dreams went, she supposed being inside Dragon Age wasn’t too bad… At least she wasn’t the Herald (again). Or the Warden (again). Or Hawke (again).

Notes: This one is a big bang, you guys. I don’t even want to linger too much here, because it’s kind of a big deal.

As always, prompts, links, and tidbits are always available here on Striving Scribe. Hey :) if you like what I’m about and you want to help me put my cat in a sweater, you could totally follow this tumblr and heart some entries :3 That’d be cool of you.

And hey…I love you :)

Everything that had transpired beforehand seemed inconsequential.

The tedious occupation of hours, or the effort to occupy hours, the fight with Cullen and their subsequent peace, tending her horse, receiving her “order” from Seggrit, returning once to sing to the mages and the soldiers, Samuel’s return. All of it was nothing.

A sharp scream cut short, like the aftermath of an echo in a canyon and her body was rocketing across the frozen lake. She lost her breath, the wind knocked out of her as she slammed into the rock on the other side of the lake.

In that moment, aside from the warning of her scream, the valley of Haven stood still.

The soldiers still weren’t sure what had happened, and everyone held their breath as they surveyed their surroundings. It all happened so quickly, everyone was standing around, gawking and wondering why they were suddenly Charmer-less.

Amy came up for breath on her hands and knees, gasping and panting as though she’d just fought for her life. Squeezing her eyes shut, it was bright, too-too bright! She could barely hold herself up, her scalp felt as though it would rip away from her skull, as searing cold and frigid fire leaked through her flesh.

She heaved, vomiting into the snow at the base of the cliff. Once. Twice. She stopped counting after the fourth dry heave.

She tried to push away, to crawl away from the smell of bile. It hurt. Hurt so much.

Her mind was on fire, stories and memories from long ago melding and echoing inside her. Her head of her heart, it didn’t matter. Everything was Muspelheim and Niflheim.

“I must not fear.” she choked out. “Fear is the mind-killer. The little black death.” the words were surprisingly easy to say, even though her mouth felt so raw. They stampeded out, stumbling into a rushed line. “I will face my fear. I will let it pass through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."

Each shift of her weight was a new agony. Her hand shot out into the clean snow, she shoved into her mouth then spat the cool water of it out. She did this with every shift, hoping to quell the fire in her throat.

Her skin was full of electric pins and needles, like experiencing an allergic reaction or feeling quickly returning to a long-dead limb… It was everywhere, the feeling was too much, and the light burnt her eyes. Everything. Everything. Everything.

Everything except the fingers of her left hand. There was no feeling there, in the offending digits that had gotten her into this atrocity.

She yelped when she felt a rope-burn on her bicep. She tried to help (or at least, she tried not to hinder), because she knew it was not a rope, only Magpie’s grip.

Magpie had sprinted for her, hauling her into the shade under the dock that was on the other side of the frozen lake. She propped Amy against one of the wooden posts.

“What was that?” Magpie asked, too scared to swear or bluster around the question.

Amy only whimpered. “The mark.” she panted. “I touched Sam’s mark.”

Amy heard rhythmic clinking, and she knew that Cullen was running towards her—knew by the sound of his armor and the smell of him… which...now that she thought about it, it was strange to know his smell when he was still so far away.

Far away.

“Sam.” Amy murmured, finally cracking her eyes open. She kept her head down, blessing the shade this rickety dock provided.

She hid herself here in the dark. She had to. She saw too much. The snow was blistering white like bone bleached in a desert. She kept her gaze down, in the ice of the lake. The dark of the deep ice was comforting. The patterns there fractured into fractals of navy, cerulean, and cobalt. Just as hypnotic as the patterns in the snow, but easier to be lost in without fear of scalding.

And she could see Sam, still sitting, dazed and delirious as he gaped into the open air.

“Siheta. Solas.” Amy said. “Get them.”

Magpie’s eyes widened and she nodded, launching herself into a full run back across the ice.

“Don’t touch her.” Amy heard her say as she passed Cullen.

Amy flung an arm around the post clinging to it in desperation. If she didn’t keep a hold of it, she would melt, melt here just outside the reach of the wretched sun only to refreeze tonight. Or within seconds. A million thoughts and a million memories coalesced and raced through her mind.

She realized, both absently and absent, that there were too many sensations to focus on. She needed to breathe properly and pull her focus. Channel herself.

Cullen was close now, and a part of her was very afraid. What had the mark done to her? Would it upset him? Would those old Templar sensitivities to magic and magic users trigger something?

She nuzzled her brow against the sturdy post, praying to gods she didn’t believe in and wondering which she could. “The evil that men do lives after them, The good is oft interred with their bones.” she murmured to herself.

There were some monologues that stuck with her. She’d had a crush on a boy named Phillip in high school. He’d been a theater geek, proving that charisma wasn’t a dump stat. She remembered his Mark Anthony...

“When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept! Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.” She wished that she were made of “sterner stuff”. As it was, it seemed that every situation sent her into a tailspin. She could barely stand herself.

Her scalp felt so tight! Her spare hand reached for the tie that held her braid taunt and snapped it in one pull. She shook her head, the fingers of her right hand forking against her scalp, reveling in both the strange tension and the loosening—it had been ages since she’d worn her hair down!

“O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts, and men have lost their reason.” she whimpered.

“Amy.” Cullen’s voice did not soothe her, though she was certain that was what he was trying for.

“Bear with me; my heart is in the coffin there with Caesar, and I must pause till it come back to me.”

It was not the response he was looking for. She heard the creak of his knees, the stretch of hide, and the brittle give of ice as he sank onto one knee next to her.

“Look at me.” He pleaded, and it hurt to hear it. Hurt to hear the fear in his voice.

“Fear is the mind-killer.” she whispered. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the shade they were in, but that wasn’t the real problem. Her focus tended to over-focus, if that was a thing.

Her eyes skittered to his, not missing his sharp intake of breath and the lean towards her as he peered into her face, but focusing intently on the irises of his eyes. She could see all the honey gold, the ochre, the tawny gilt and browns.

“I see the lion in you.” she whispered, leaning towards him as well. She was aware of his mouth slightly open and his eyebrows ticking up in surprise, but not because she was seeing it. Or was she? No. His eyes were what she was seeing.

She felt the scent of frost, heavy, burning the back of her throat, her eyes widening fractionally. “Bax.” she whispered before Bax fade stepped near the end of the dock with a wet smack and the aplomb of a raging druffalo.

“Don’t touch her.” He warned, and Amy did not so much see Cullen turning to glare at Bax as she felt it... But she did see it...or...or was aware of it? It was so difficult to process!

“Where is the stillness of wood? Of stone? Of crystal? Of metal?” Now, Amy felt as though the words were whining out of her weary throat. “All this noise. All this life. Is pain. We sense the power in this place. Power enough to destroy us. To end the pain. To be still. Again.”

Bax stared at her for a long second. “That is not as encouraging as I’d like.” he muttered under his breath.

“Sam.”

“Sam’s fine, Amy.” Bax assured, stepping closer and yet still keeping his distance. She didn’t know what he was looking for, only that he was looking at her and in a very different way than he had before. He was searching.

“No.” Amy whispered.

Sam was not fine. Sam was in shock, not medical shock but shock nonetheless. Even with Cassandra at his side, he was barely responsive, still sitting on the ice, a useless lump, like fuzz on furniture.

“Amy.” Bax’s voice was taut. “Amy, what are you doing?”

Her focus shifted, across the ice. To Sam. She needed to tell him she was alright, even if she wasn’t. That she would be fine, even if there was no certainty that it was so. They both needed to believe that.

“I have crossed the horizon to find you.” she sang. Sam, started, jerking back as he looked up at her. “I know your name.”

His eyes widened and she was suddenly very close to him, closer than she was to Cullen.

“They have stolen the heart from inside you,” she continued, aware of Cassandra springing back. “But this does not define you.” she reached forward, grasping his hand— the hand with the mark, and he didn’t snatch it away even with what had happened. Shock, most likely. “This is not who you are.” she assured him. “You know who you are.”

“...Amy?” he asked. Obviously still in shock, though Amy wasn’t sure why.

“Get away from him!” Cassandra commanded.

“Cassandra, don’t!” Sam barked back, which was probably the only thing saving Amy from a shield-bash.

“Maker’s...what in…” Varric, why and how was Varric even here? It wasn’t that the concept of him on the field was implausible, but Amy had never seen him there.

“Amy!” Bax’s voice was strained, urgent. Amy looked at him, seeing him… Seeing him under the dock across the lake.

Across the lake from where she stood beside Sam, except that she wasn’t beside Sam…

Amy’s eyes grew, suddenly surprised that she wasn’t in as much pain or having half the trouble focusing as she had been only seconds before.

“Is that you?” Cullen’s grim tone demanded to be heard. With one knee still planted on the ice, making to rise and yet still. Still deciding on which action to take, yet action was imminent in his intent.

Amy looked across the ice, because she didn’t know what he was seeing.

There, crouching near Sam on the other side of the lake, was… a figure. Even from here with her senses out of control, she could see that it was a woman, a woman made of something that was not smoke or sand or ash and yet it moved like those things, at least at its edges...it was somehow not quite solid but very present.

It was a shade of teal so dark it nearly wasn't fair to call it teal, and it appeared almost metallic in the light. The figure stood and turned, facing them... While it looked similar to Amy it wasn't quite right. The point of the nose and jaw were too sharp, the face too oval and not round enough. Cheekbones that could hurt a body.

"Mother." Amy breathed. It looked like her mother. Enough that Amy's heart ached.

"It is Amy." Bax said. "It's like... like magic, but not like our magic. It's like... a piece of Amy that's outside herself." Bax elaborated. "When I first arrived, it was like it was broiling around her incessantly clamoring, and then it began to shift when her focus shifted to Sam.

"It's ok, Sammy." the apparition soothed, though Amy was afraid that it would be anything but soothing.

Sam took in a shuddering breath, which Amy saw and heard though there was no way to explain the physics of that.

"Blessed Andraste." Amy wasn't sure who had said it, but it was one of the soldiers near Cassandra. At least she assumed he was, since Cassandra relaxed her crouch a touch and peered at the figure with more curiosity than wrath. “It’s Andraste.”

"Fear is the mind-killer." Amy murmured.

Two things occurred to her simultaneously.

Firstly, in a state of fear, she would always take comfort from her parents. Even if they could not help her, if they had no answers, if they were just as lost as she, their presence was a comfort.

Secondly, all of her efforts to distance herself from Andraste weren't going to work. It seemed to be the only way people could identify her without feeling threatened. This tied into another observation... dressing herself in their myths might be the best way to ensure her survival in a society that was taught to inherently fear magic.

“Amy, listen to me.” Baxtien ordered.

She looked at him.

“Are you in great pain?”

“It’s not as bad as before.”

He nodded. “As near as I can tell, that…” he pointed to the figure across the lake while not looking away from Amy. “that is a manifestation of your magic.”

“But how did it manifest?” Cullen asked.

“I touched Sam’s mark.” Amy said. “It exploded.”

“And it broke through the barrier that’s around your magic.” Bax breathed. “The process of the body acclimating to magic… it isn’t pleasant...at least, not always. It varies from person to person, but usually a mage’s body gradually adjusts to the magic that moves through them. The process is gradual, naturally ...well, typically. But this is...different.”

“You’re saying Amy’s magic is moving through her now.”

Bax was nodding. “When this,” he motioned to the woman on the other side of the ice. “manifested, the pain you felt wasn’t as harsh, yes?”

Amy nodded. Bax turned, looking back across the lake at the figure.

“Because you found a way to channel the magic into the physical world, outside of you.” Bax’s tone was filled with awe and a touch of speculation. It was obvious that he wasn’t sure of that, because he wasn’t sure how magic and Amy and Amy’s magic were functioning (separately or together). “But how?”

“I sang.” Amy reminded.

Bax’s eyes widened as her spun to gale at her. “Of course! Your power has always been in your voice!”

Her legs were folded awkwardly, half beneath her. Her body gave a flounce as she tried to use them, straightening one, then folding it again, before shifting her weight, utterly upright.

“The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed.” Amy barely recognized her own voice, it was so laden with strain. She tried to focus again, this time on what Bax was saying. If the power was loose, and her body wasn’t used to it…

Her “power” was… loose? She needed to center herself, refocus, find a way to bear up under the strain.

...the usual.

Cullen stood, still partially crouched, his hands out but at a distance. “How are we supposed to help her if we can’t touch her?” He demanded, glaring at Bax.

“It could possibly hurt her just as much to be touched as it would hurt us to touch her.” Bax countered.

She needed something….

“Did you ever know that you're my hero,” The song was soft from the pain around her eyes and the constrictions of her chest. She planted one foot on the ice, cringing as she shifted her weight onto it. “And everything I would like to be?” She took a deep breath, then swiftly drew up, in a heavy squat now but at least she was on her feet. “I can fly higher than an eagle, For you are the wind beneath my wings.”

“Up.” The tone was absolute.

Bax leapt away, ending up half behind Cullen on the other side of the dock. Amy tried to obey, but still was crouching as she leaned heavily against the post.

“That is...most unsettling.” Bax determined. Cullen now stood upright with a hand carefully placed on his sword hilt.

Another figure, this one a towering male.

“Da.” Amy breathed, weirdly comfortable with her father’s visage.

“Stand up properly.” He commanded again, and Amy took jagged steps forward, keeping her hands against the post as she straightened out, using the post to push herself into an upright position.

Again, the pain had lessened, and now her body felt as though she’d pulled or strained so many muscles. The day after a marathon, the hardest day. The day you struggled to do everything, but you made yourself, because it was the only way to get better.

“When you learn how to suffer you suffer much less.” She reminded as she stared at the wood grain. “Thich Nhat Hanh.”

“Test your joints, assess the pain.” Her father’s voice has been a fading memory, but now...it was as if there had been no separation. “What do you need to do?”

“We… we need to get back.” She said leaning forward until she could prop herself against another post. This one, farther out on the ice. She made to rise again, but even using her arms to support herself against the post, it felt impossible.

She could remember things now that she’d forgotten even before crossing over to Thedas. She remembered falling off her horse for the first time, falling off a bike, falling off the monkey bars, falling and scraping her knees…. falling, falling, falling, and the pain of those falls.

She remembered her mother’s smile and her father’s gentle hands. Her eyes landed again on the figure across the ice. Not her mother, but herself. In the visage of her mother, because she needed that. “Focus on your goal, be aware of your own physicality. Move forward.” her father’s words in her father’s voice, a memory made manifest because she needed it.

She leaned away from the post, no longer propped up. The pain was manageable, but she couldn’t lock her knees. She tested them, bending into more of a boxer’s stance. She drew her elbows tightly to her sides, her wrists rolling so that her palms were up. After a deep breath, she clenched her open hands into fists.

“Go.”

Her right arm came up in a block, the gesture automatic, breath gusting out of her.

“Again.”

This time the left arm came up while the right returned to a resting position.

“Step.”

Her right foot drew back, a better fighting stance for what she specializes in.

“Forward.”

Amy realized then that her awareness was…. different. Expanded. She had her eyes trained forward, so she could still see the figure across the lake, and the soldiers not sure what was happening or what they should do. Mages were filing through the ranks as well, approaching the frozen lake to see what was going on.

She was also aware that the figure of her father was not just beside her, urging her on, but also doing this routine with her. It shouldn’t have been shocking for a multitude of reasons. It wasn’t as if her father didn’t know these drills, after all, but of course, this wasn’t her father. It was her. Their movements were seamless because there was no ‘they’, only her.

It occurred to her then, that with enough focus… she could be aware of many things at once from many perspectives and all of them were technically hers...because her “magic” was no longer bound up inside of her.

“Flowing through all, there is balance.” she recited. “There is no peace without a passion to create. There is no passion without peace to guide.” she felt another wave of blistering cold followed by heat. She breathed through it, shifting forward again. “Knowledge stagnates without the strength to act. Power blinds without the serenity to see.” she rose, standing normally, upright. “There is freedom in life. There is purpose in death.” Her elbows returned to her side, her palms up as she breathed deeply, experiencing the pain and letting it go even while more waves built inside her. “I am the fulcrum. The giver and the taker.”

And she began to walk forward. It wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t as hard as it had seemed moments ago.

Magie broke through the ranks with both Solas and Siheta behind. Solas scanned the situation from the masses before his eyes landed on Amy. Siheta sauntered forward, eyeing the apparition of Amy that took the form of Amy’s mother. She circled it, critically evaluating it even as she bent to help Sam into a standing position.

Amy spoke again, her words echoing in both of those metallic manifestations of her.

"My Mind is my power, my power is my Mind.” she murmured, another long-forgotten moment glaring to life. “When uncorrupted by other elements, my mind becomes my purest power."

“I think she has it… mostly.” Bax said, still somewhat behind Cullen. Cullen had risen to slowly follow Amy, though he was still at a distance. “This would be easier if…” Bax eyed Cullen for a moment before asking, “Commander, would you say that it’s better to ask for forgiveness or permission?”

Cullen halted and careened to glare back at him. “Why?”

Bax sighed. “No reason.”

Again, Amy felt the bitter sear of frost in the back of her throat, and then Bax snapped out of existence, appearing across the lake near Siheta.

“Did he just…” Cullen began before his expression boggled into confusion. “It’s impossible to fade-step that far.” he assured himself, though the evidence was dictating otherwise.

“Honestly, once you’ve created a compromising shield of warmth and you understand balanced propulsion…” Bax’s defense seemed to ebb before he shook his head. “It’s not that difficult.”

“Quite.” Siheta seconded, though her eyes remained on the apparition. It felt to Amy as though the voices were all around her...but she and Cullen still stood separate from the crowd.

“What has happened here?” Solas asked, forcing attention back to the matter at hand.

“Amy touched Sam’s mark, and when she did… There was this explosion?” Bax said and asked at the same time. It wasn’t that he didn’t have faith in Amy’s ability to grasp what happened, it was that he didn’t know if that was the correct term for what had happened.

“That…” Sam muttered, dazedly staring at Amy as she approached. He nodded. “That.” he finally concluded, still not able to fully engage with what had happened and was happening.

“She flew across the lake and she couldn’t stand.” Magpie was saying as Solas took measured steps forward. It was like he thought this apparition was some wild halla, and he were afraid to spook it. Or that it wasn’t a halla, but a demon, ready to lash out. “She was in a lot of pain, and she couldn’t see or do anything really, I mean, except retch up everything she’s eaten for a week.”

“All that is gold does not glitter” Now that they were this close, the three voices in tandem sounded… strange. They echoed off each other and flowed in perfect sync. “Not all those who wander are lost;” The eyes of both specters as well as Amy’s eyes bore into Solas as they said this. He froze, his eyes on the nearest—her mother.

Amy knew this could not continue. She could not divide herself this way, even if there was pain in it.

“Amy?” Cullen’s voice was soft, as though he were afraid she would spook.

“What is she doing?” Cassandra asked, stepping closer. Her eyes were on Amy now.

“The old that is strong does not wither.” She looked at the figure of her father, and he walked behind her and then into her space, and she jolted as that energy siphoned back into her body. As his form dissipated, she tried to reimagine its shape. Mostly because she wasn’t sure if she could contain this and still function. His form changed, encasing her like armor that fit like a second skin before fading entirely. “Deep roots are not reached by the frost.”

She stumbled forward, but righted herself. She panted for a second, before reminding herself of proper breathing techniques. Then, she walked. Again. She was getting close.

“These are part of her.” Bax said in a way that conveyed even he knew it was needless to explain that.

“From the ashes, a fire shall be woken,” Amy continued, her pace stilted at first before she managed to even it out into something that felt more natural. “A light from the shadows shall spring;” she was finally able to see their faces with her own eyes. “Renewed shall be blade that was broken. The crownless again shall be king.” she said, finally standing mere paces away from the image of her mother.

The face contorted in sympathy. “I wish I could be with you, my Dove.” she said.

Amy swallowed past the grief and half laughed. “You are with always me, Mother.”

With that, she extended her upturned palms. Her mother smiled, and took her hands before walking into her space. The heat that flashed through her had a frigid cold on its heels. Amy was momentarily stunned by it, until she reminded herself that she’d need to focus and determine its course.

That energy wrapped around her torso, and then branched out of her back, rooted in her shoulder blades and rib cage before arcing up into enormous wings. They gave a single flap, and Amy felt as though somehow they were holding her up, because her legs felt stiff and dead while her torso felt heavy and sluggish. She swallowed and sobbed out jagged breathes before she remembered how to breathe.

“....just like Sailor Moon.” Magpie murmured.

Amy laughed, bright and bell-like. If Sailor Moon’s transformation was this painful, that dumpling-head never would’ve done it again.

Her hands and feet felt deadened. Her knees and shoulders were on fire, but it was a pulsing warmth instead of the galvanizing sear it had been before. Her torso felt like spearmint….

“Amy?” Solas asked, hesitantly stepping forward. “Are you in control?”

Amy’s eyes popped open, startling those in front of her. The irises of her eyes were glowing, making them a vibrant teal. "My Mind is my power, my power is my Mind.” she repeated, her voice droning. “When uncorrupted by other elements, my mind becomes my purest power."

Magpie leaned up, drawing very close behind Solas. “Please fix her.” she pleaded in a stage whisper. Solas only grimace. Amy wasn’t certain if his reaction was in response to Amy’s condition or due to Magpie’s proximity to him.

“She doesn’t need to be fixed.” Siheta assured. “She just needs to adapt.” she walked forward, drawing closer to Amy’s left side. “Amy, I’m going to touch you, and you’re going to tell me how it feels.”

“Right now? In front of everyone?” This was Tunan, sarcastic as ever. In the short time that he and his sister had spent around Amy, she’d come to enjoy his biting wit.

“Ha. Ha.” Varric grumbled. “Time and place, kid.”

Siheta set her hand over the top of Amy’s head. Amy hissed a breath in.

“Tight.”

She put her hand against Amy’s cheek.

“Hot.”

Another hand on her shoulder.

“Hot again.”

She set her hand against Amy’s back, between her shoulder blades.

Amy shuddered. “Cold-cold-cold.” This continued, with Siheta proding or simply laying her hand against several spots… What was strange was that the sensations changed. A spot that had been hot on the first encounter, it was sharp or tight or cold on the next.

Siheta drew her hand back, staring at the palm of her hand.

“Anything?” Solas asked. Siheta met his eyes as she stared over Amy, then she shook her head.

“Huh.” Bax murmured. “So, it might be safe?”

“For the person who touches her? Yes.” Siheta determined. “Amy still feels the discomfort.”

Solas’s hand skimmed the air around Amy’s head and shoulders. “The magic is all around you, and yet there is little substance to it… I wonder.”

“Wonder later.” Tunan said. “Lets get her back to the chantry.”

Amy groaned. It felt like it had taken hours just to cross that lake. She took a step forward, and then another. Walking up the incline, slight as it was, was still such a chore.

Words gushed out of her mouth, to have anything to focus on except the strain on her body. “The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta, held as a votive not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous."

“Easy there, Charmer.” Bull murmured, drawing back. “Any of us could carry you.”

“When I can no longer walk, you may carry me.” she replied, stopping as she reached to top of the incline. She was both shocked and reluctantly accepting of the soldiers who gawked and knelt along the way.

Past soldiers and mages alike and through Haven, she walked. Slow and stilted at first, but then smoother, gaining momentum as she began to negotiate through the pain. She stumbled after crossing the threshold, and Cullen rushed to catch her….and the pain of impact caused her to promptly blackout.

There are a lot of references in this chapter. Amy recites the Litany against Fear from Dune and the description of L-sama (by L-sama) from Slayers multiple times in this. There are also quotes from Julius Caesar, Young Justice, The Dark Tower, Thich Nhat Hanh, the Grey Jedi code, and Bilbo’s Poem to describe Aragorn. The songs Amy sang are from Moana and Bette Midler’s Wind Beneath My Wings.

[strivingscribe]

ILIC ~ Ch 26

It’s Lost Its Charm by  MsMoon

Chapter 26 ~ Take me to Church

Chapters: 26/?

Chapter Navigation: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15,16, 17, 18,19,20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26,

Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age,

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Violence,

Relationships: I feel like it’s a little early for that…

Summary: As dreams went, she supposed being inside Dragon Age wasn’t too bad… At least she wasn’t the Herald (again). Or the Warden (again). Or Hawke (again).

Notes: I always want to apologize so much for not cranking chapters out at a consistent pace. But then I feel bad for keeping you guys from the new chapter, so go! Go on! We have time for all this later!

As always, prompts, links, and tidbits are always available here on Striving Scribe. Hey :) If you like what I’m about, and you want to help me navigate an Ikea warehouse, you could totally follow my tumblr and heart some entries :3 That’d be cool of you.

And hey…thanks :)

Solas did not sulk or stomp because such methods of expression were beneath him. However… he was in quite the sour mood, and no amount matured grace could disrupt that. He was only moderately irritated to find the two new elves—Magpie’s long lost clansmen—sitting inside the quarters they’d all been sharing while tending to Amy. “Solas?” Magpie, ever the keen eyes on her, focused on him for all but two seconds before realizing he was not quite as content as usual. She did not elaborate her question, only letting it hang in the air. Allowing him the option of an out… “Forgive me. I hope I am not interrupting. I must pack.” “Pack?” A continuation of the previous question, further focused. Solas drew a settling breath before reporting back. “I have been informed that Samuel along with myself, Sera, and the Iron Bull will be leaving tomorrow morning before first light.” He crossed the room, retrieving his pack from beneath the bed frame where he usually kept it when he was back in Haven. There was a beat of silence as he began placing items, mostly clothing, into the pack. “Does Amy know?” Of course, that would be Magpie’s first question. “I am not in charge of that.” Solas murmured, something he had heard Amy say at one point which Magpie had parroted. “Is there anything you’d like us to do while you’re away?” this came from the male elf—Tunan, Magpie had called him earlier. Solas half turned to stare back at him, expecting that to be some sort of glib form of sass…. but looking between the two newcomers, he saw only sincerity. He blinked rapidly before looking to Magpie who seemed… smug. “Yes, Hahren.” Magpie cooed, looking far too pleased with this circumstance. “Isn’t there anything you might want us to do?” He narrowed his eyes, still not sure what any of this was about. “Other than keeping Amy safe? There’s little more that I could ask for.” “The little lady in the tavern that everyone gathers around?” Tunan asked with a neutral look on his face. He nodded. “It shouldn’t be too difficult.” “You might be surprised.” Magpie half grumbled. “Especially with the mood she’s been in lately.” “She has been relatively compliant, all things considered.” Solas reminded. He had expected opposition from Amy, same as the Commander, but… the breakaway to the stables notwithstanding, she had been a diligent patient. Even he couldn’t fault her for wanting to take care of her animal. “Yeah, maybe.” Magpie still seemed reluctant. “What?” Solas’s focus sharpened on her. “Have you noticed any inconsistencies?” Magpie’s mouth skewed sideways before she finally confessed. “It’s just… that song of her’s has gotten so much more aggressive.” “She’s been singing?” Solas couldn’t keep the surprise (and the twinge of betrayal) out of his tone. “No!” Magpie was quick to rebut his question. “I mean…” she lay her palm out on her chest and thumped it twice. “Her song.” He felt himself straighten, his arms go slack. Magpie’s eyes remained on him, pinning him in place. “You know what I mean.” He blinked rapidly, trying to think of some way to plausibly explain away the implausible. “You mean that weird music that just follows her around?” this came from the female sibling—Tunen. “I mean, it’s not really common...but some mages with really strong magic can do something like that. I remember one of the old mothers used to do that around the littles—” “She isn’t a mage, though.” Magpie confided. “Or at least, she wasn’t till...before this whole mess with the breach.” “It’s also not something that everyone can hear.” Solas continued. “This...this music is unique to Amy. It is not entirely auditory, and…” he shook his head. “What?” Magpie asked. “What is it that you keep trying not to say, that you want so badly to say to someone?” He sighed, looking at her. “I thought only mages could hear it.” Solas confessed. “Siheta, Elossa, Baxtien, they’ve all experienced it, and while you have responded to it.. I theorized that perhaps it wasn’t because you heard it so much as you were...reacting to it subliminally.” Magpie scrunched her lips up in a pout, glaring at him...though there was less anger and more resentment. “You could make that argument for Elossa with ease. She’s even sung with Amy, but anytime you ask her where she knows the song from she just says that it’s a song she’s always known, or some other absent minded dismissal.” Solas’s eyes dart between the two twins. “And the two of you hear it as well?” They nodded. “And you are not mages either.” “That’s assuming a lot.” Tunen said with a smirk. Solas met her eyes before looking to the bow slung on her back and the many throwing daggers on her belt. Tunan had propped the enormous sword he’d come in with against the wall, but there was no denying his muscular biceps. The boy's was wider than most elves Solas had seen... though if that had to do with training or nutrition, he could not tell. Still, the evidence of a swordsman was right in front of him. “Let people make their assumptions.” Tunan replied. “The best skill to have is the one that’s hidden.” He returned to his seated position against the wall, half reclining there. “So. Watch out for the woman. That all?” “And each other.” Solas murmured, letting them think they had effectively changed the subject. “That goes without saying.” Tunan murmured. “This music business is strange though. It’s fairly rare in magic-users, and someone who has no magic?” He shook his head. “...yet... to find that others can hear it or respond to it.” “Siheta says that where Amy’s from, magic is different. It’s all internal, with no external source, like…” she shrugged. “Like there’s no Fade….or, if there is, it’s locked away behind an internal veil.” she shook her head. “She explains it better than I do, but they have her running so many errands for Flissa and Adan just to justify her mobility as a mage that it’s hard to have a sit-down with her like we used to.” “Where is this woman from, exactly?” Tunen asked, confused and a touch repulsed by Magpie’s description of where Amy is from. “Don’t know. Not here.” was all she said, though Solas got the sneaking suspicion that she knew more than she was letting on. “That explains certain things…” Solas murmured, returning to stuffing his pack. “It also seems… that the concept of the self-renewing system would be more valid.” he relented begrudgingly. Magpie cocked her head just slightly before slowly murmuring. “Which means...observation would be better than abstinence…” she suggested. “Especially if it’s the sort of thing that helps to sustain her…” Magpie’s eye sharpened as Solas looked away. “What? What is it that keeps you from agreeing with Siheta?” Magpie felt her molars grind before muttering, “I swear, Solas, if this is a point of pride…” Tunan snickered and mumbled. “Solas. A point of pride.” Tunen joined in with her brother, the two of them giggling like four year-olds. Still, Magpie couldn’t quite fault the humor in the statement and even Solas was fighting a smirk. “It isn’t that...entirely.” Solas finally relented. “However…” he searched for the right words to say even as he began folding clothes for packing. “However, I am reluctant to relent my position with a subject so delicate.” “Please…” Magpie pleaded. “Don’t let Amy hear you refer to her as ‘delicate’.” “What sort of fool do you take me for?” Solas joked. “Firstly, I’ve no intention of taking you at all. Not until you clean up your act, at least.” she sniffed, attempting a haughty air. “And Secondly, the sort that might divert attention onto something else just to see how another would weather a storm.” Magpie put her hands on her hips. “Like how you happened to tell Sam and Cullen where Amy and I would be eating.” Solas’s eyes flickered in Magpie’s general direction before returning to the task of packing. Magpie let that continue without comment or confrontation for a moment before sighing. Her shoulders relaxed a touch, and she mentally reminded herself that this wasn’t a fight she wanted. “Still, I know that you’re genuinely worried. I just wish you wouldn’t deflect so much, because then we could address the actual problem.” Solas stalled, taking perhaps a touch too long to evaluate one pair of breeches that were very nearly ready to fall apart and crawl away on their own. “I’m just saying, when you’re concerned, I’m concerned.” Magpie continued, finally gaining a glance from him. “Mostly because you’re so damn slippery.” she grumbled. “I can peg the others and all that they’re concerned about.” “Can you now?” Solas asked, only a touch skeptical. Her insight had been fairly accurate. He had been able to semantically feint in order to throw her off here and there, but… it never worked for very long. Magpie shrugged. “Sam’s worried about Amy getting hurt. Cullen too, for the most part. Leliana’s worried about that, but mostly because she sees Amy as a resource. Sure, she wants to exploit Amy, but she'd rather keep her alive, and she's willing to fight to do it.” she let out a slow huff. “Josephine’s worried about how Amy will translate in a more grand arena. Bull… Bull’s worried that Amy’s gonna break his world… and Varric’s worried that the world will break Amy.” Her eyes narrowed. "Blackwall's harder to peg. He doesn't spend as much time around Amy as the others... He's worried about something..." Solas took a deep breath. “I like to worry about things from multiple angles. Suffice to say… There are many variables concerning Amy’s circumstance.” Magpie’s eyebrows twitched up. “Well… you’re not wrong.” Her eyes trained on the wooden wall to her left, as though she could map out her problems in the wood grain. It possessed no secrets as far as Solas was concerned, but whatever she saw there seemed to decide her. “Come on, Tues.” she said, looking between her twin friends. “Haven isn’t big, but you still need to know the in’s and out’s. Besides,” she smirked back at Solas. “the old man probably needs his rest.” “Always so thoughtful.” Solas muttered, raising a single eyebrow. She only wore a half smile, but it shined in her eyes in a way that...he wasn’t quite used to. Not that he hadn’t noticed it before now… It has been present more often than not lately. That look softened her taunts significantly. Magpie half sauntered-half skipped through the doorway like the precocious child she often was, while the twins seemed more befuddled. Their rounded eyes slipped back and forth between Magpie and Solas, regarding their clan-mate with shock and Solas with a strange form of...reverence? Their regard was new to him, as though they were waiting for instruction or permission of some sort. The male twin reacted first. With a shrug, he hefted himself up and took up space by the doorway, holding it open while his sister darted out after Magpie. He then hurried through himself, closing the door behind them. Leaving Solas to ponder this strange change between his and Magpie’s typically frigid encounters. Once the door was shut, Solas surveyed his traveling pack. He’d find no answers there, but it wasn’t going to fill itself. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The room did not smell bad. The scent was odd because there was so little in the way of scent. It was absence of scent, only cold stone...which wasn’t fragrant in the least. Even so, Amy knew that this train of thought was most persistent because she was trying to convince herself of it. Perhaps the facts were more important at this stage. The room was longer than it was wide. Standing in the center of the room with her arms stretched out, Amy couldn’t quite touch the walls...but one hard lean to one side or the other, and she’d definitely have contact. Still, she could probably get away with a cartwheel and a half from the back of the room to the doorway. “As I said, it is rather small.” Mother Giselle reminded, in the way that matronly figures say ‘I told you so’ without actually having to say the phrase. Amy smiled. “Don’t nehheed space.” Amy said. The summons to the chantry had been a bit of a shock for her since her movements had been so closely guarded of late. It turned out Mother Giselle had rolled high on initiative, and was addressing the need for Amy to have a distinct space in the chantry. She had spoken at length about a place where Amy might stay, now that she was going to be there for most of her time. Somewhere out of the way, where she could be found and consulted privately... Amy had felt shell shocked upon hearing it. She knew this discussion would happen, of course, but any planning had been left to the four winds. With no concrete plans in place, it felt like a vague and distant wave, looming before it crashes into a beach all Day-After-Tomorrow-style. And so, Amy had felt detached when Mother Giselle began to discuss places she could stay during the day. Of course, Amy assumed she would need to be both accessible and out of the way. In the game, companions were just… around. They were usually in places they’d probably linger anyway. Of all the options given, Mother Giselle had mentioned this small room in the hall between the kitchens and linen wash in an absent fashion. Amy had seized upon this. Like any good Hufflepuff, Amy would be just beside the kitchens! It was perfect! Well… not perfect, but honestly. Being upset was one thing, but refusing to make the best of the situation you have is ridiculous. Mother Giselle had seemed somewhat surprised, but not at all taken aback enough that she didn’t simply nod and commit to making that room as presentable as it could be. “I did warn you…” Mother Giselle was saying from the doorway. “It is not as grand as… well, shall we say, Madame Vivienne’s area. Or even Josephine’s offices really. It’s about half that size.” “S’ perfect.” she’d assured. She stared up the length of the walls. “Don’t need much.” She reminded. Amy looked back to Mother Giselle, hovering just inside the doorway. “Sleep here?” she asked, pointing down. The woman laughed, albeit abruptly. “Of course not, child.” she shook her head. “You’d freeze!” Amy shrugged, “Been thru worse.” “I have spoken to Lady Montilyet concerning your sleeping quarters.” she paused, evaluating the words she chooses next carefully. “Evidently, it is Sister Leliana’s wish that you remain very close.” Amy hummed in acknowledgment. That was...well. Understandable, she supposed. “What sort of furnishings would you like?” Mother Giselle queried. Amy thought about it for a moment before signing. “Chair… sihm-pal table or desk…” she eyed the long walls. “Sheeeelves.” she shook her head. “Sparse.” “You’re not worried about offending chantry sensibilities, I hope.” Mother Giselle said with a small smile. “You know that you don’t have to adopt an austere taste simply because you reside inside the chantry?” that smile seemed almost coy. Amy smirked. “Sim-pel best for now.” Amy shrugged before opening the door and keeping it open for Mother Giselle to walk though. “ ‘Specially since… I still don’t know...what I’m doing.” Mother Giselle’s smile was sympathetic. “New roles take some adjustment. I’m sure everyone will understand.” As Amy closed the door to her new space, she felt a strange fluttery feeling in her stomach. It made her vision sway, and she found herself leaning rather heavily against the now-closed door. She felt Mother Giselle’s hand delicately rest against her shoulder. “You are still unwell.” “Comes and goes.” Amy murmured, closing her eyes for a moment before reopening them. She was hoping that she could focus on a single point to reorient herself. There was a pause as one of the servants, Amy couldn't tell which at the moment (from this vantage point especially) it was.

“Does this happen often?” Mother Giselle asked, her voice low. It was then that Amy realized she was keeping her voice down so that they wouldn't draw attention to themselves. A nice thought, but servants saw everything. It wasn't as if they wouldn't know her situation was rapidly changing, what with all the gossip and her routine changing so drastically. 

“Hazn’… not since…” Amy took a deep breath, feeling her ribcage expand to the point near pain. She held it for a scant second before letting that air filter out slow. “Since.. beeee-for tavern.” She took another breath before pushing away from the wall and willing her body to cooperate. Mother Giselle kept pace, giving her a surveying look from the corner of her eye. “That’s right. You were often given over to fits of weakness or dizziness before you began working regularly in the tavern.” Mother Giselle thought that over. “Is that something that typically happens to you when you are sick?” Amy considered her past life, restricting her memories to a simple survey of the facts before nostalgia and melancholy could pull her down. Typically, Amy slept a lot when she was sick… but even when she had to push herself, she tended to run fevers and need frequent breaks for water and to gulp in oxygen. She’d never had any sort of vertigo… and even when she had experienced vomiting, it had been swift and not lingering. This sickness, if that’s what it was, was a different animal. “No.” she said simply. Mother Giselle hummed thoughtfully at that. “Then perhaps there is something here, something unique, that you’re reacting to.” Mother Giselle shrugged as they reentered the Chantry proper. “It could be a great number of things.” Amy didn’t make eye contact or comment on this. The last thing that she wanted was another person diagnosing her. Jaga only knew what a chantry mother would think of her. “And to think, your health had improved so much.” Mother Giselle sighed. “Even your speech was strengthening.” She was right, of course, and that was so disappointing. Amy’s physical condition before this attack had been damn near prime. Her speech, while still impaired was vastly improving as well. True, long words and vowel sounds still got her at times… but she could speak small words in short bursts all together and sound out the rest. She only hoped that she could recover any physicality she’d lost quickly. “Ah. Chancellor Roderick.” Mother Giselle said by way of greeting when the chancellor happened to walk by. He paused, clearly in a huff on his way to or from somewhere. “Mother Giselle.” His eyes landed on Amy, narrowing before surveying her carefully. “Miss Amy.” Amy had met the good Chancellor in passing twice before now, and both times he had regarded her with what she interpreted as… confused disdain. She nodded her head, dutiful in her regard for his position if not for his attitude. “Chan-sel-or.” “I am overseeing Amy’s permanent transition to the Chantry.” Mother Giselle informed him with a smile. Amy had to wonder why. It wasn’t as if Mother Giselle approved of Roderick’s position, or that she was beholden to dole out information to him. Still, at her words, the Chancellor’s chin tilted just to the left. A strange smile settled on his face; 'strange' for the simple fact that it was odd because Amy wasn’t used to seeing it. “That is a relief to hear.” he said, his posture relaxing if only a touch. “The incident on the field is irreprehensible, and the long hours you work..” he shook his head. “It’s a pity this Inquisition,” he spat the word, “has done little in the way of providing for its workers, and the rumors spreading about you are absolutely vile.” Amy winced. “You cannot possibly blame the Inquisition for that, Chancellor.” Mother Giselle chided in an almost grandmotherly fashion. “Any young lady who spends her nights in a tavern is bound to garner a bit of ill repute.” That wasn’t news. Chancellor Roderick’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “Not that. Those rumors are infantile in comparison.” “What old bone are you guarding now, Roderick?” Sam grumbled as he sauntered up to them. He winked at Amy as a substitute for a greeting. “The heretical blasphemy your organization is spewing.” “Isn’t most blasphemy heretical by nature?” Sam poked with a smirk that only made Roderick’s scowl more severe. “This poor child has worked herself to the bone, first with the servants and then in your tavern, and for what? For you to parade her about as a false prophet!” “Haaah?” Amy looked between the two of them in horror. “She doesn’t even know what you’ve done, does she!” Sam had the good sense to look sheepish for a moment, but it changed to an almost begrudging humor as his eyes found Amy. “Well.. you have to admit, Charmer, there was another figure whose song changed the hearts and minds of the people.” A sheepish smile spread over his face. “Someone with power in her song...” his eyes wandered to one of the effigies of Andraste before meeting hers again. Amy stared at him, not quite understanding...until she did.

She recoiled. “No.” she growled. She put up both of her arms and crossed them like an X in front of her face. “No, no, no-no-no!” Chancellor Roderick’s posture straightened noticeably as he nodded in her direction. As though he were seconding the motion. “Ok, first off,” he pointed to the Chancellor who was opening his mouth, most likely to issue some furiously righteous rant. “this,” he made a circular motion to their surroundings, “isn’t my anything. Not Haven, nor the Inquisition. If anything, I have been sequestered by madmen.” he took a deep breath. “And secondly, literally no one in the Inquisition instigated those rumors. Certainly none of the advisors, or myself, or Seeker Pentaghast.” “Sam.” Amy commanded, demanded, unyielding and furious though in a very quiet sort of way. Her mother would be so proud. Sam, for his part, seemed to hold his breath for a second before finally letting it out and deflating with it. “Charmer, I swear, the Inquisition had no intention of drawing any parallels between you and Andraste—” Amy’s mouth fell open, hearing it nearly made her head spin. “geeeh.” she breethed in disgust. “but! But, when it did surface… well, it’s better that people think of you as saintly than as a whore, right?” “No!” Amy crowed. “Whore’s are...are honest! Is oldest pro-fess-shun! Straight for-ward! Most saints are...are...char-let-tons!” she pointed at him. “I… am an honest...girl!” Sam smirked, sheepish now that he was good and scolded. “Better an honest whore than a sideways saint?” Amy nodded. “Just...just cuz I’m diff-rent…” she shook her head, looking down as she crossed her arms tightly. “Don’t know whu-why I am, but I am… and just cuz I am, doesn’t mean… I’m touched or speh-shial or sig-nif-ih-cant.” “You’re right.” Sam smiled. “You’re significant and touched and special for a lot of other reasons.” Amy stomped a foot (which her mother would not have endorsed). “Don’t be nice wah-hen I’mad at’chu.” she grumbled, making him chuckle. “Damned if I do, and damned if I don’t.” Sam said, tossing his head back like the muscles in his name had just given out. “Look…” he grumbled. “I don’t know why you think this is an ‘Inquisition’ issue.” he said to Roderick. “The rumors started in the chantry, here, that day when Charmer was singing.” Amy winced, remembering the song she’d sung for Sam. Amazing Grace had been an emotional memory as well as a fragile wish that Sam would garner some inspiration from the words of the song. Amy had been right about the acoustics of the chantry, and because of those acoustics, she’d been heard by many in the building. “So, this concept of her returning to the chantry for shelter from rumors started by my sinister organization is a complete load of crap.” Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “Even you can’t deny Amy’s words and songs are powerful, because you certainly didn’t the entire time those rumors began brewing here, in-house as it were.” Chancel Roderick looked somewhat chastised, though his face puckered in a begrudging scowl. “I will not deny that the Maker has given her a great gift.” he said, and Amy marveled over how easily he surrendered those words. “What is so troublesome is the Inquisitions dash to allow those rumors to spread beyond this Chantry.” Sam rolled his eyes. “Because rumors are so easily controlled.” “They are, when your Nightengale decides they are detrimental and slanderous against your cause.” Chancellor Roderick growled evenly. “Is too late now.” Amy grumbled, lifting a hand to her forehead. The crown of her head felt tense and heavy now. It made for a tightness around her eyes that caused her vision to blur slightly. “You ok, Charmer?” Sam asked, his tone softening as he took his focus off of Roderick. She sighed, the breath puffing her chest and shoulders up before they fell in a dramatic slouch. “Fine.” “Hm.” he murmured, not convinced. “Well. I wanted to let you know that we’d be leaving tomorrow.” Amy blinked up at him. “At first light, Bull, Sera, Solas, and I are… gonna be hiking up the Frostbacks a bit.” he said, a clever glint in his eyes. “Seeing about those precautions you mentioned, to better strengthen fortifications and all.” That sounded like a more casual parroting of something Cullen had said. So, they were scouting for Skyhold… “How looohng?” Sam shrugged. “Solas seems to think it shouldn’t take too long, since we’re such a small scouting party. Maybe two days. Three tops.” Amy’s eyebrows rose. “Guess he’d know.” she mumbled. There hadn’t been a lot in-game to gauge exactly how long the trek from Haven to Skyhold was… One source she’d read surmised that it’d taken the freshly-attacked fledgling Inquisition an entire month to get there on account of unprepared civilians and pack animals being in tow. At the same time, the Inquisitor had seen Corephyus reopen the breach and gotten down the mountain in what seemed like no time at all… though… there was really no telling how much of that was just a game mechanic. “Oi. Stop pouting.” Sam snipped. “We’ll remember to be careful and drink water and take breaks.” he overly exaggerated the list, dulling his voice a ‘yes mom’ sort of tone. She scowled at him. “An’ be kind. Solas doesn’t ...get on well wif Bull’n’Sera.” “No, he really does not.” “We hafta re-mem-ber t’be kind… to each other.” Amy reminded, sighing heavily. “World is so un-kind.” Sam looked directly at Chancellor Roderick. “It really is.” While this didn’t do anything to lessen Chancellor Roderick’s scowl, it didn’t mean the expression didn’t change at all. In fact, a strange sort of pensiveness settled on the Chancellor’s face. His eyes seemed to drift sideways. Sam had the softest smirk on his face that Amy had ever seen. It was at once teasing and comforting. In moments like these, he reminded her so much of Connor… Wretched beauties, those memories. Happy little glimmers that brought a tightness to her chest that she had to chase away before it rooted in too deeply. “And when you return, we will no doubt have Amy well settled.” Mother Giselle assured, stepping forward. With all of Sam and Chancellor Roderick’s posturing, Amy had very nearly forgotten about her. “Good to hear.” Sam said with a nod. His eyes rose towards the daunting chasm that was the chantry’s ceiling. “Guess I should pack and rest up for tomorrow.” he said, his voice both measured and forlorn. Chancellor Roderick sniffed. “A Herald’s work is never done.” Sam blinked, looking over at him with confusion puckering his brow. “Did you just make a joke?” Amy chuckled, more at the ridiculousness of the scenario than anything Roderick had said. Sam looked somewhere between curious and almost frightened, and Roderick, though still stiff, looked almost smug! “Sick. Burn.” Amy grunted. And somehow the tension was gone. Amy understood what it meant, because it had been one of the biggest parts of her life. She had been a mediator between her brothers, between her parents, between her parents and siblings, even between classmates. She knew what it was to hear about both sides and sap the tension with a touch of perspective. “We still have much work to do.” Mother Giselle reminded in that gentle way she had. “Indeed.” Chancellor Roderick agreed, though Amy still wasn’t sure exactly how the Chancellor occupied his time here. And before she could think of how to politely ask him this, he had left. Sam shrugged, waved goodbye before backing away, and then took his weary eyes with him to pack. “No rest for the weary.” Amy half sang the words, and was instantly disappointed and relieved. It was the strangest sensation. She felt guilty for singing against Solas’s instructions, and at the same time, there was an almost flash of comfort in her muscles. ...curious. A million facts about placebo effects and psychosomatic coping mechanisms ran through her mind. All things she didn't want to stop and squint at… “Go and gather your things, child.” Mother Giselle instructed before starting off on her own tasks. Amy didn’t have much in the way of things, really. But she could take the time to find Solas and Magpie and Varric and let them know that she was being moved. She found Solas staring at his own packed bag, though it appeared the bag had been taken care of for quite a while. Solas was simply staring at the receptacle as though he could somehow scry through it. His attention snapped to her as she entered the room. "Amy." It was more of a greeting or acknowledgment of her presence really. He took a breath, and she waited. It was the perfect definition of their relationship, really

“Solas.” Amy prompted, at last garnering some much-needed eye contact. “Say it.”

The corner of his mouth twitched upward before he began. “I have been considering your condition, both what I know now and anything I can garner of your previous state…” Amy held her breath waiting for whatever travesty waited just around the river bend. “While I will continuously advise caution in all things, I do not think it would be terribly detrimental to your health if you were to sing again.” 

Amy felt her eyes grow wide, while tears stung at the edges of her vision. She let out a tiny half sob of breath before hiding her face in her hands.

Before Thedas, music had been a constant in her life. She woke up to it, she lived her life to it, she went to sleep to it. Driving to and from work, at the dojo, even alone in her home… music was constantly part of her environment.  To the point that she had no idea how crucial it was to her reality.

If you would’ve asked if Amy fancied herself much of a singer, she would’ve laughed off her response. The truth was, she sang constantly, she embraced music in every eternal spec of her essence… But Bridget McManus’s utilitarian world view had skewed her daughter's estimations. Singing was not what she did on a professional level, and she was not acknowledged by any peers, therefore it wasn’t a factor.

Not there. Not back home. But in Thedas...

“Amy.” Solas’s voice was tentative. A careful hand on her shoulder, his concern making her face him even with tears in her eyes.

The door creaked open, Varric barging his way in—and it was his place too, so why shouldn’t he?

“Whoa, there, Chuckles. What’d you say to her?” he worried, drawing close.

Amy huffed out a laugh as best she could, shaking her head.

“Only that she should not feel a need to constrain herself...if she desires to sing.”

Varric’s smile held a hint of, ‘what are we going to do with you?’. “Been holding it in there, eh, Charmer?”

Amy took a deep breath and let it out in a near whistle. “So luk-ee. Movin’ bak to chant-ry today. Woulda eh’noyed the piss outta ya.”

Varric chuckled. “Seems like a small price to pay.” he said with a smirk. “Come on. Chuckles and I can walk you back.”

“Will we?” Solas asked, with an arched eyebrow. He didn’t offer any resistance when Varric placed a gentle hand at the small of her back to lead her outside again.

He could be that way...compliant but still salty about.

… Maybe he wasn’t Canadian...maybe he was English.

“You complain, but you know…” Varric began, with his best shit-eating grin. “It’s a nice day for a song.

Solas rolled his eyes but was still grinning.

“How ‘bout it, Charmer? You got a good song in you?”

Amy knew a good prompt when she heard one.

“There's a line where the sky meets the sea and it calls me! But no one kno~ows, how far it go~oes.” she was only too happy to belt that to the open sky.“All the time wondering where I need to be is behind me. I'm on my ow~wn, to worlds unknow~wn.” Amy did a happy little twirl before half skipping forward. “Every turn I take, every trail I track, is a choice I make, now I can't turn back, from the great unknown where I go alone, where I long to be…” She took a deep breath, scanning the horizon and finding the lazy moon on the horizon. “See her light up the night in the sea, she calls me! And yes I kno~ow that I can go!” It felt so good to breathe deep, like a much-needed stretch. “There's a moon in the sky and the wind is behind me, soon I'll know how far I'll go~o!” For a moment, there was nothing but the echo of her voice as it rang out into the open sky.

“Well, well, well, sounds like someone’s got a bit of her own back.”

Amy knew her smile was radiant through the warmth of the blush on her cheeks and the responding smile Magpie gave her.

“I thought you were taking your clan mates on a tour.” Solas queried in a way that was both a statement and a question.

“She did. Turns out Haven is tiny.” Tunen said with a shrug. Her brother only smirked at this. “It was worth it to come, even if all we were to receive was that song.”

“Indeed.” Tunan droned in a husky timbre. “Your voice is a marvel.”

Amy felt her blush intensify at their genuine praise. She bent slightly at the waist in a modest bow. “Thank. You.”

Magpie smirked and the twins exchanged baffled looks. Amy was oblivious to this interaction, but Varric and Solas could tell Amy’s behavior confused them. The girl flinched back, a sour expression on her face but her brother shook his head, before cocking it to the side. They looked to Magpie, who gave them both a smug grin. The twins weren't used to shows of respect, especially not from humans. While Tunen thought it could be a joke, Tunan was certain that wasn't it...but was still perplexed to see such behavior at all.

Amy came upright at this point, reaching for Magpie. The slip of an elf darted forward, looping her arm with Amy’s as if she’d done it all her life. ���Where are we off to now?”

“Chant-tree.”

“Amy is being moved there.” Solas informed, his voice staid.

“Really…?” Magpie sounded… hesitant.

“No worries.” Amy said. “Weh...wheel… we will… find a place.” she comforted.

“All four of us?” this was Tunan, the brother, who asked.

“Whoa...all three of you elves are just going to shadow her now?” Varric asked.

“That is our intention.” Tunan responded, seemingly so nonchalant. “We’ve little desire to be separated from Magpie after so long, and...after everything..” he heaved a sigh.

Amy’s free hand patted at her own throat as she felt a lump swell there. Magpie had never spoken of the party of hunters she had come here with, and no one asked her about it. Ever. As Amy felt Magpie’s forehead brush against her shoulder, she made a show of combing her bangs back before nodding.

“All four.” she announced as if it were obvious. Of course. That had been the plan all along.

“I wonder how the Chantry will feel about that.” Solas mused.

“No in-tent-shun to ask.” Amy murmured, making Magpie chuckled.

“That’s what I like about our Charmer.” she said, seeming significantly brighter than she had only seconds ago. It was easy to assume that she had been referring to Amy’s blatant disregard for the Chantry… but really it was more ambiguous. Really… Magpie just liked how much better she felt after speaking with Amy. She just had a way of making things feel… “Consistently better.”

End Notes: Finally! 

Oh, this is such a relief! I swear, I've been sitting on bits of this chapter for what feels like ages. And it has been! It's been ages. But first finals, and then moving, and struggling with financial aid, and physical therapy, and family visits, and D&D, and I just... I just got out of the habit of writing. And I'm really sorry about that guys. 

And every time, every time! I would look at this chapter and feel like it wasn't good enough to post. And the longer I went without posting, the more pressure I put on myself to do more with this chapter =..= My self-esteem might be self-defeating, but at least there's someone out there I can defeat. 

And I feel really horrible if I don't reply to your comments before I post a chapter. I honestly just don't feel like I deserve the love I get for this fic, and that really stops me from writing... and it just won't do. So, I'm doing things a little differently now. 

I have a steady schedule now. I'm going to keep to it. So... hopefully, it won't be too long before I pop my head back up again :|