Cassandra gazes at the Inquisitor from the doorway of the small room. She knows death when she sees it, she is no fool. She feels great sadness as the looks upon the Elf that has been her friend for so long now, that has stood by her side and defended the world against its greatest threat.
The Inquisitor had been returned to Skyhold, Dorian carrying her unconscious form in his arms. They'd been racing towards the safety of the castle, pursued by their attackers. The guards at the walls had driven the enemies back, letting the small group enter the safety of the castle's walls. She had immediately been rushed to the mages chambers, but even than, her condition had been dire.
She was poisoned, it's running through her veins even now. None of the mages are strong enough to dispel it, not with all their magic combined. They stand at the Inquisitors bed side even now, circling her. White magic sparks like lightening, striking at their hands, their words a hushed chant. They're trying again, trying to keep the poison at bay. No one knows what to do, how to help her.
Dorian is beside himself, blaming himself for her injury, for her inevitable death. Bull is trying to comfort him, but it's to no avail.
Cassandra knows what is going to happen.
She sees the disappointment on the mages faces as they finish their spell, realizing that they have failed again. There's hushed whispers, but Cassandra has seen enough.
The Inquisitor deserves peace now.
"That is enough," Cassandra says, her voice ringing sharply through the room. She steps forward, her polished armor clinking. "Leave her in peace. You've done all you can."
"But, if we do ---." The mages all hesitate; they're exhausted, they've been trying for hours now. They've kept her alive through the night, she should have passed on hours after her injury.
"I know, but let her find peace if that is her fate." Cassandra shakes her head, stepping between them to the bedside of her friend. The Inquisitor is ghastly pale, her skin gleams with sweat. She's been stripped of her armor, her braided hair trailing across one of the pillows. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly, her veins appear on her skin in black lines.
For all she's been through, this is what she will not survive. Is her life really to end in such a way, defending a friend? It's admirable, honorable, and her loss will be felt all across Thedas. Still, Cassandra does not want this, but she's sent ravens to all her contacts, she's poured over the books in the library. She still does not know what this poison is, she cannot find a cure for it.
And now, even if they did know, they would never be able to create an antidote in time.
Her attackers have completely disappeared, she supposes their goal completed.
The mages all leave the room, their shoulders slumping in defeat.
Cassandra is quiet, slowly sitting on the edge of the bed.
"I am sorry this has happened to you, Inquisitor." She murmurs, her gaze running over the exhausted body in front of her. The mark on the Inquisitors hand is glowing, the light crawling up her arm.
Cassandra knows it's been getting worse, she's seen the Inquisitor try to hide her pain. She's been secluding herself more, putting on a facade so no one worries, but that doesn't fool the Right Hand of the Divine.
She's been in pain much longer than anyone knew.
The Inquisitor turns her head, mumbling incoherently. She's spoke Solas name once, very plainly, and Cassandra felt her heart twist. The elf leaving had caused more pain than any physical wound, and it's one the Inquisitor has never recovered from. She mourns his loss, she searches for him, she still sends out scouts, trying to find the missing elf.
She loves him, their relationship was apparent to anyone with eyes. Cassandra had thought that Solas returned the Inquisitors affections, she'd thought he loved the elf, he was so protective and respectful of her.
Alas, even Cassandra can be wrong at times.
The Inquisitor shuffles again, her eyes opening for a brief second, glazed and milky. She's muttering again, writhing against the bed sheets clinging to her skin. If she moves too much, she'll reopen her wound, which, though not anything that should have been fatal, had caused her to lose a lot of blood.
Cassandra hesitates, her chest aching as she sees the pain her friend is in. She wants to do something, anything, to make her pain go away, to help! It's not fair for this life to end in such a way!
"How is she?"
Cassandra glances behind her, seeing Dorian hovering in the doorway. The normally well-dressed mage looks ragged, his eyes red and swollen. Bull hovers anxiously behind him, taking up the doorway. He'll have to turn sideways if he wishes to fit into the room.
"She is unwell, Dorian. I am not sure how much longer she has." Cassandra will not lie, it's too bad for that. She has no comforting words to offer Dorian as he steps forward, gazing down at the Elf before him. "Everyone should say their last words if they have any, she doesn't have long. The mages can do nothing for her."
"This should not have happened," Dorian mutters. His hand starts forward, but he stops himself, recoiling. He doesn't want to touch her, the guilt eating at him is too much. He doesn't want to cause her more pain, it's breaking him in half to see her this way. "This is all my fault."
"Do not think like that, kadan," Bull rumbles from the doorway. "This is not your fault, it is our enemies. She saved your life because you are her friend and she treasures you. Her sacrifice will not go forgotten."
"We need to hunt down those who did this and make an example of them," Cassandra mutters, her dark hair falling into her face as she finally looks away from the elf. She crosses her arms, gazing at the stone floor. "Show what happens when they injure one of our comrades."
"I can see my Chargers out, they'll find them." Bull says, still outside the door. "We will find them and bring them here for justice."
"Do so. Do not kill any of them," Cassandra warns, her voice growing dark. "I want to make sure they get appropriate justice."
Bull nods, his head lingering on the Elf before he disappears down the hallway.
"You should get Sera and Will," Dorian sniffles after a moment, holding himself. "They'll want to say goodbye."
"Will already knows, he's secluded himself to her tower and refuses to come down. He can hear her, he said, calling for Solas in the Fade." Cassandra sighs, pressing her hand against her eyes, rubbing them.
"Damned Elf," Dorian says, his eyes narrowing slightly. "He left her brokenhearted when she needed him most."
"We don't know his reasonings, Dorian."
"We don't have too, he is a coward." Dorian spits, finally feeling something other than guilt. Anger rolls through his body, making his blood boil as he clenches his fists. "He should be here for her and he isn't."
Cassandra sighs, but she offers no more argument.
She feels the same as Dorian.
They both look at the Inquisitor as she makes a pained sound, her hand suddenly reaching out, clenching into the sheets as the mark flares once more.
"I don't know which is causing her more pain," Cassandra says helplessly. She goes around the bed, hesitantly closing her cold palm around the glowing hand. "She's been in pain for a few months now, but she's been hiding it. The mark has been getting worse."
"Why hasn't she said anything?" Dorian demands, pressing one knee on the edge of the bed. He reaches forward, his fingers lightly pressing against her damp shoulder. She's starting to move around too much, already her bandages are a faint red.
"She doesn't want any of us to worry."
"So foolish," he mutters, pressing a little harder. She's squirming, her eyes are opening and closing, but she's seeing nothing. She's speaking in Elven now, leaving both of her friends at a loss of what she's saying.
"Shit, hold her down!" Cassandra gasps as the Inquisitor begins to thrash, reaching desperately to hold the Elf, who has never been so strong.
"What's happening?" she hears someone cry, and she looks over, seeing Cullen dart into the room. He's been pacing in the hallway for the last hour, wanting to come in, see what's happening, but unsure of what he should do. He wants to offer some sort of comfort, keep up to date, but he's never felt more useless.
"Help us hold her down! Close the door!" Cassandra barks, her expression pained as she sees red begin to soak through the Inquisitors bandages as they wrap around her waist. "She's ---."
"She's dying," Dorian gasps, his voice sounding choked. The Inquisitor fights their grip, thrashing wildly despite the three of them attempt to hold her still. She's in pain, her voice is growing hoarse as she expresses the torture she's feeling.
Cassandra feels tears well in her eyes as the Inquisitor screams until she's hoarse, blackness crawling across her body as the poison starts to consume her. She can see it on her companions faces, how white Cullen's suddenly is, how broken Dorian looks; they all know what's about to come.
No doubt the entirety of Skyhold can hear her.
The Inquisitor gasps out fractured Elven, the veins in her eyes starting to darken as she stares blindly at the ceiling. Blood is starting to soak into Dorian's clothing where he tries to hold her down, her bandages now growing sodden.
"Solas," the Elf finally rasps, her head rolling back and forth. "Ma halani!"
"Ar amahn," a new voice says, and all three companions twist, their eyes widening as they stare at the door; I am here.
Solas stands there, looking unlike what they've ever seen. He wears bright white fur across his chest and shoulder, his armor gold and black. He stands tall, proud, and his eyes --- there's something ---.
"Solas!" Cassandra gasps; how the hell did he get into the castle? Guards are everywhere, looking for this Elf, and he just slips right inside?
"Out of my way," Solas commands, striding forward.
Cullen and Dorian immediately stagger back, Solas eyes lingering on the red stains clinging to the mage's clothing. Cassandra hesitates, slowly lifting her hands off the Inquisitor, backing away.
"Ma vhenan, telsila tel din." Solas murmurs as he goes to the Inquisitors side; my love, worry not. He kneels on the bed beside her gasping form, his eyes flicking over the black lines running across her skin. He reaches forward, cupping her face between his long fingers. "Ir abelas."
His thumbs caress her cheeks, and after a moment her struggles lessen, her body becoming more calm. He gazes down at her sadly, his eyes drifting across her fevered body. He is almost too late, a few more moments, and she would be dead.
"Solas, what are you ---?" Cassandra starts, but he raises a hand, silencing her. She gasps silently, her hand rising to her throat as no sound leaves her lips.
"I am here for Azelia, do not trouble me." Solas orders, glancing about the room.
Cullen and Dorian are silent, staring at him; this is not the same Elf.
Solas gaze returns to his heart, cradling her face once more.
"Ar juver mar nu," he murmurs; I will take your pain.
He leans forward, his lips settling firmly against hers as his eyes flare a white fitting for a spirit of the Fade.
The others in the room shield their eyes from the glare.
Solas feels the Inquisitor sigh against his lips, her body suddenly numb. He draws the poison from her veins into his own skin, feeling it war with his magic before dissipating. While it harms her, he is immune. He feels only the slightest pain before it's gone, his hand roving down to press against her wound. She makes a sound of pain at the pressure, her hand rising instinctively to curl in his armor, clenching.
Then, it's done.
The Inquisitor relaxes, and Solas lifts his lips from hers reluctantly. Her skin is clear, no longer does darkness crawl through it. He lifts his hand from her wound, palm stained a faint red. She is healed, it will trouble her no longer. His eyes trail over to her palm where it glows green, and his eyes flare for a moment more.
He hates the pain the mark causes her, but she must bare it for a little while longer. He needs her to be strong, to weather that pain while he gets everything in order. She's strong enough to not give in, and he will find her when the time is right.
He has no choice.
Seeing her like this, hearing her in the Fade, it has changed his mind on many things. He will find her when it's time, he will take her with him; if she can love him knowing that he is Fen'Harel, than perhaps she can love him when he becomes the monster intent on destroying an entire world.
"Fen'Harel ma ghilana," he whispers, seeing her eyes flutter for a few seconds. After a moment, the emeralds are gazing up at him, disoriented, still glazed.
"Solas," she murmurs, her fingers laxing in his shirt.
"Azelia, melena sulem," he says, caressing her cheek as he leans up; wait for me. He has to go now, before the others recover. He must leave Skyhold, return to his plans.
The Inquisitor gives a faint, weak smile. "Don't I always?"
Solas smiles softly.
He will always find her when she needs him.
She will always wait for him.
What a strange love they share.