mythalenaste | OPEN POST

She feels the weight of him behind her, the glow of his smile against her ear, how like a bulwark he is between her and the world that wants her attention tonight. This balcony is the most private of places, in spite of being so open. Just the three of them and the sky and stars.

I don't know what happens after this, he said.

Neither do I, she responded, but it was only half of what she was going to say. There was supposed to be a because at the end of it.

Telling him obviously has to happen. Not telling him won't make it go away. At some point, he'll figure it out on his own. This is the perfect moment. Corypheus is dead and the future looks okay for once. Aside from being tied to a goddess who has expressed no interest in cashing in on her debt, and in fact has expressed disinterest in it.

"Cullen," she begins, turning in his arms, her hands automatically settling on the soft feathers of his coat and combing through, idly stroking. Her voice catches in her chest as she peers up at him, all ice-blue eyes, like a wild doe caught in lantern-light.

"There's...something you need to know."

Edited 2015-09-15 22:38 (UTC)

For the first time since the days just beyond the Fifth Blight, the world felt as though it might begin to reassemble itself into something prosperous, peaceful, and possibly lasting. It was enough for him to have Pel in his arms, but to imagine that Thedas over would be discussing them and their accomplishments... it made him swell with pride for her. His own accomplishments were not trifle, but he was still working toward a goal.

He did not resist when Pel turned to face him, letting his hands rest upon her hips-- so slim that he was afraid he might break her, but... he knew better. She was one of the strongest people he knew, so when she looked up at him with such trepidation he wasn't sure if she was playing a prank on him or not.

"...Will you be returning to your clan?" he asked, letting his worst fears come to the fore. The Inquisition was situated here, but if she were to be safest, he would recommend she stay with her clan. They were keen on picking up and moving on a moment's notice, well equipped to handle the dangers that would face her...

"No." Her mouth forms around that word as she looks him straight in the eyes to make sure there is no misunderstanding. She's not one for rushing corrections. Direct, to the point. That's what she falls back on. It's what always seems safest, and calms her down. "Better than that."

A deep breath.

"We're having a baby." Only toward the end does her voice crack, nervous words pushed past a suddenly dry mouth.

Under normal circumstances he would parse those words without hesitation. Though tonight was no normal circumstance and he had never anticipated to hear something like that from anyone, much less the Inquisitor, herself. He blinked slowly, glanced slight to one side, then resumed looking into her eyes.

The moment that it sunk in was nearly a physical thing, the weight on his shoulders lifting and a brightness in his expression that gave way to shock and delight-- and a real maelstrom of others, but those, primarily.

"You're... you're certain?" there was hope, something he had long denied himself with what all he'd experienced. All the trials and tribulations he'd survived, hope was a cruel stab in the chest when that hope began to fray into anger and despair after the events in Kinloch hold.

Now... he was willing to leave that vulnerability open, but just for her, for Pel, his Inquisitor, and the love of his life.

Her face flushes in the pale light, all the way to her hairline. Her eyes suddenly glimmer at the lower lids, though they do not well just yet. She sees the moment it clicks, hears the lightness in his voice, that ray of hope like a lifeline for her. It has occurred to her more than once that she is having a baby no matter what, and that he can choose not to. She knows he would never abandon her, but in the margins she glimpses the terror and loneliness that many unexpected mothers endure.

She nods, and then her pinned-up nervousness trickles out through a crack in her stoicism, a stream of babble. "Yes. I-I...I've known for a while. But I couldn't tell you till now. I couldn't put you through that, not till I knew I'd come back to you alive. It was bad enough for you to have me to worry about--"

She stops herself and sheds the calm facade, curling against his chest and pulling him close.

"I was so afraid..." that she was going to die, and take her first child with her. "Say something."

Both his arms wrapped around her tightly, head bowed to rest his mouth against her shoulder, his voice muffled by the fabric of her clothing. "I would never have permitted you to face him, knowing that." there was a fierceness to the conviction in his voice. As determined and driven as he sounded when fighting off a pell of lyrium withdrawal. "We would have found a way-- send Iron Bull, Cassandra, Solas, whoever could wither Corypheus down before you stepped onto the battlefield..."

It was understandable, but no less frustrating, Part of him did scold himself softly for letting the past linger in the present. The past was that, the past, and decisions worked in their favor, Maker willing. He pulled away enough to cup her face in his hands, a smile breaking out over his face with a very soft bubble of his own laughter.

"We're going to start our own family. We're shaping the world for them, a better world. A world full of promise and hope."

Now there are real tears in her eyes, and a shining smile, like all darkness was just driven away by those words.

"You're happy?" She's not surprised or disbelieving, only vulnerable. She just wants to hear him say he is happy.

Edited 2015-09-16 13:24 (UTC)

Five months.

He was pushing it, this time, he knew. He even had the decency to look sheepish as he walked up to the familiar aravels. He reached out to touch the closest one as he walked in, careful not to be seen by any of the elders. If he just sort of reintegrated himself in slowly over the next couple of days, maybe they'd forget he'd been missing so long.

(Not like that was going to happen, but it was a kind lie he could tell himself.)

The fact that he almost ran into Pel while trying to sneak back in was... well, unfortunate.

"Hey, Pel," he said, his voice soft, the apology already there in his tone. "What'd I miss?"

Edited 2015-09-30 14:45 (UTC)

She stares at him, and the air grows frigid. Clearly, she doesn't think he's funny.

It's some time before she speaks. She's busy glaring the shit out of him. After a while, she speaks thickly.

"Fenedhis lasa, you bastard," she says quietly. "You irresponsible, selfish twit. Dirthara-ma, you coward. Deserter."

As coldly furious as she is, there are tears forming slowly in her eyes. He is one of the few people to have ever seen her cry before.

"We thought you were dead this time," she says evenly. "That's what you missed."

Edited 2015-09-30 15:09 (UTC)

He winced with every word, but did not argue them. Deserter, coward- those were the worst. He didn't want either of them to be true. Knew, in the eyes of his clan, that they already were.

His expression pained as he saw the glimmer at the edge of her eyes and instinctively he went to reach out, to stroke her cheek, but his hand hesitated and pulled away. He didn't have that right. He knew that.

"Sorry, Pel," he whispered, and he meant it. Though he probably should have left it there, rather than adding, "The funeral would have been interesting, at least. Bet there hasn't been one dedicated to Fen'Harel, in a while."

Ordinarily, that would make her laugh at least a little, even if reluctantly. She wants to shove him away, hard, but she can't do it. As angry as she is, she's even more relieved to see him again, here and alive.

"Is this punishment?" she asks, still quiet. "Did the whole clan do something wrong?"

Did I?

"No," He replies with a good deal of assertion. "No, Pel, of course not. No one... None of you have done anything. I just..." He trailed off, giving a pained smile.

"It's no one's fault but mine. It never has been. I didn't do it on purpose, I just... got distracted." It was a lame excuse, and it felt lame as he said it. He sighed. "I'm not trying to hurt anyone, Pel." Let alone you.

"Mythal'enaste, Gavin, I'd hate to see what it looks like when you are trying to hurt someone." A little fire enters her with that one.

That one cut to bone, his eyes falling to the ground, his chest tightening, muscles pulling painfully taut over his heart.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, barely above a breath. "I really am, Pel. For everything. But I'm not..." he turned his eyes up. "... I'll go, if you ask me to. If you think it's honestly better. I don't know what else I can do to make it up to you... This is my home. You're--" He cut off there, sighing. No point saying words that weren't necessary anymore. Weren't fair.

"Of course this is my home. But whatever the creators want me to be, I can't find it here."

The tears are rolling down now, and more are coming to her eyes. She's a veritable, angry waterfall. She doesn't have anything to say to that. It's like being stabbed in the gut, knowing she can't argue him into being okay. She can't fix this. She can't do her job. She can't keep him.

She opens her mouth to speak and an unvoiced sob comes out instead. She finds herself curling against him, arms wrapping around his waist.

He's awkward for a half heartbeat - not expecting the sudden embrace - but then he slides his arms down around her shoulders and pulls her tight against him.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, again, laying a hand on her head and gently brushing her fingers over her hair.

She was going to give him everything, once. But as soon as he was expected to give something back, he left.

After a moment, she pushes him away--firmly, but not violently--and turns her face to wipe her tears without looking at him.

"Not sorry enough to change. That's the only kind of sorry that counts."

She takes a deep, shaking breath. When she speaks, the coldness is coming back to her voice.

"Keep looking for yourself. Maybe you'll figure out that you never lost yourself to begin with, but you'll never believe it coming from me. It's not like I've ever earned your trust, or your loyalty, or your love."

Hard now, but still damp:

"Go tell Merrick you're alive again."

Gavin stood there - not trying to retrieve the embrace when she left it. He half expected her to shove him, but she didn't. At least, not physically. In the end it was more painful, this way.

"Pel--" He started, a plea, but it trailed off, sadly. What could he say? She had every right to hate him. What could he say? That he still cared about her? Of course he did. If he didn't, coming home wouldn't be so hard.

But, like every time they'd had this argument, he didn't fight it. Just looked at her sadly.

"... Alright," He agreed quietly. "I'll go let him know."

"You're not a bad man."

She doesn't know why she blurts that out, except that none of this is worthwhile if he loses all hope in himself.

"You're a good man. You just don't think you know what that means."

Her tears are dry now, and she still hasn't looked at him again.

"... I'll figure it out somehow, Pel," he replied quietly, his eyes on her face even as hers was turned away.

He raised a hand to rub absentmindedly at his chest, as if pressing against the flesh would make the feeling go away.

"I promise."

"You've never come through with a promise, Gavin. I can't keep hoping you will. I don't have it in me any more."

He sighed, bowing his head, picking up his pack from where he'd dropped it and shifting it back onto his shoulder.

"I'd better go find Merrick," He murmured, before slipping away. He'd done enough damage, for today.

"Yes, you had," she retorts lamely before leaning over her task again. Mixing soap, because one of their clanmates hurt his hand and can't make soap. He runs off to find his destiny while hers was handed to her a long time ago.

Please find a home for her.

That was the last thing he'd ever hear from his former lover, scrawled on a note as she lay dying, presented by a somber child - a dwarf, with red, untamed hair and faded green eyes. The girl didn't speak much, and Gavin didn't know what to say. It took a few minutes until it occurred to him that the note wasn't a request so much as a duty. She was his daughter. One he never knew he had.

He took the girls hand - tiny and warm - and helped her back onto the pony she'd arrived on, and then had led her out away from the small town. It was the closest to where Clan Ashara was currently camped - her mother must have kept fairly good tabs on him. They'd only spent a single night together, and they'd parted ways on good terms and in friendship - but apparently the consequences had been much greater for her than him.

Taking her to the clan turned out to be a trial. He tucked her into one of the aravels, and then spent nearly two hours being yelled at by the keeper. In the end, she snapped at him that she would decide his fate in the morning, and he'd left, depressed and dejected, to go sit by the fire in the dark, trying to decide what on earth he was going to do.

Edited 2015-10-07 13:52 (UTC)

Pel doesn't blame him for having a child. Kids are merely part of the biology of sex. Of course she wouldn't expect Gavin to be celibate after they broke up. Kids are a risk. She risked them herself by being with him.

The problem is that, at one point, it was supposed to be her having his children. She was supposed to be his family. But that's not such a slap in the face if he's going to give the girl away. Gavin never takes on responsibility. She doesn't expect this to be any different.

"You're not going to keep her," she says quietly as she approaches and sits on the ground beside him. "She's not going to eject you from the clan."

There's bitter resentment in her words, but more tired resignation than anger.

"I can't just - give her away, Pel," He said, his voice just as quiet, staring into the flames. "She doesn't have anyone." He picked up a twig and threw it into the fire, watching it spark and catch and die.

"But I can't keep her here. So I don't see what other choice the Keeper has."

Of course he's thinking about it. She suspected that. But he'll always take the self-centered option.

"It's not about her. It's not even about you. You have never committed to anything in your life. You don't start with a child, any more than you start hunting by chasing a stag or a boar. Speaking from experience, Gavin, the cruelest thing you could do to this girl is to give her half a father. So yes you can give her away."

Something flashed across Gavin's face, twisting his lips and pulling at his eyes.

"No." He decided, the word firm as his expression hardened. "No, I won't." It was almost petulant, and certainly said with more sureness than he had, but he could feel it like a kick in the gut. "I'm not going to let her think that no one wants her, Pel." He stood up, rather abruptly, though then didn't seem to know what to do with himself when he got there, so just kicked a stone into the fire.

"I shouldn't have brought her here."

A sigh of long-suffering.

"Then you give her to someone who can love her. Gavin, you can't even love yourself. You wander and then you punish yourself for wandering, but you keep doing it. You spend your time looking for relevance, for some calling, and...Mythal'enaste, do you think this child is your newfound purpose?"

"I'm not incapable of love, Pel." It was a flat statement, though the guilt lay just behind it, and he didn't look at her. "And she's not-- Don't talk about her like a phase, Pel, she's --" He was about to say 'one of the people' but even that wasn't true and just made his face scrunch up. He dug his toe in the dirt.

"Would it make you happier if I just stayed useless, my whole life? Just - gave up on her, because what could I hope to do anyway, can't even take care of myself--"

"You are not incapable, and you are not useless. Someone, I don't know who, taught you that you have to justify your existence, and it's not true. You have just as much right to be here as anyone, and you have people who love you without you needing to give them a reason to do it. If you do this because you feel useless, you're using her. You're making her a tool to dig yourself out of your own guilt. She deserves better than that."

"She deserves a family," he said firmly. "And I'm not <i>using her. But I am responsible for her, Pel. She went her whole life assuming I would never be in it, which was bad enough. I'm not going to - I'm not going to just - No. No, I won't." He took a deep breath.

"We'll go away. I'll figure something out. And if I-- If I really can't, then I'll find something better for her. But I owe it to her, to try."

"You can't do this on a trial basis. That's only going to make things harder for her if it fails." Her words are more breath than voice now, and the firelight catches moisture threatening to become tears in her eyes. "Don't you know that's why I hate the Arlathvhen? I see those people who still think they're my family, and they want to make up for time lost, and I get to see how beautiful things would have been if they hadn't given me away."

Gavin's heart wrenched, and he almost took a step toward her but kept himself still. "... Pel, I can't change the past for you," replied after a moment, "But it's too late, now. Whether I give her away now, or later... That's still all I would ever be. Someone who failed her."

He breathed through his nose, looking down at the ground.

"But you're right. I can't do it on a trial basis." There was a long pause. "I'll just have to go with her, whatever happens."

"Do you mean it this time?" she says, barely able to phonate the words. "You're going to love her and stay with her, whatever happens?"

His face drooped as he raised his eyes to meet Pel's, gazing at her with a sad lopsided smile.

"Even I have to grow up some time, right?" He asked quietly.

That means he's leaving for good. She can feel her heart breaking again. Why does she always fool herself into thinking someone she loves is going to stay in her life?

"Just don't give her what was given to me. Whatever you do. What's her name?"

"Lyra," He replied quietly. He knew Pel well enough that he could see it - visibly see the damage he was doing, even now. But this... this was not something he could fix, even if he stayed. At least he had a chance of being someone good, for Lyra. At least he had a chance to not let her down.

"... You'll explain to the Keeper for me?" He asked quietly.

"Stay the night. Say goodbye to the clan in the morning."

She has to resist the urge to throw herself in his arms, to beg to go with him. There are too many years of resentment between them now, to try to have a life together. She has to let go of him. She has to heal.

It's against his nature - he's never been good at goodbyes - and for a moment he tries to argue, tries to tell her that it's better if they just leave in the night --

But she's right. It's his nature, but that's what he has to try to change. He's not going to throw that away on the first night.

They deserve a proper goodbye.

So instead he nods. "Alright," he agrees in a low murmur.

She takes a deep breath.

"I'll always love you, somehow. I'll always miss you. But I'll be fine, and so will you."

She leans in to press a lingering kiss to his cheek. And with that, she is free. She has said what needed to be said. When she pulls away, she smiles tearfully.

"You're going to be so happy."

His own eyes mist a little, and he smiles at her, warm and sad and fond.

"I'll do my best to make you proud, Pel," he whispered quietly, then reached out to brush a hand on her cheek, whisking the first tear away before it fell.

"I'm not the one you have to make proud now."

She'll have to grieve tomorrow. Grieve and then finally start moving forward. How much fuller will her life be, without the strewn-out promise of occasional breadcrumbs?

He let his hand drop, before stepping back. "Well. I'll try to make everyone proud," He said, even if he didn't believe it was possible. "... Goodnight, Pel," he murmured, and disappeared back into the camp.

She's not sure if she'll see him off in the morning, or if she has already said her goodbyes and prolonging it will only make things more painful. She's not going to know until the morning. But she has to believe he'll be okay. Tonight, she prays for him.

In the morning, she does not say goodbye to Gavin. Instead, she kneels in front of the little girl and places in her palm a pendant on a string.

"This is made from the antler of a halla, little one," she tells her gently. "I want you to have it to keep, to remind you of where you come from."

The pendant is one Pel has worn for years. It feels right to let it go now, to give her part to the effort Gavin is making. He wanted her to belong in this world. Maybe there will come a time when she can belong to the clan as an elven child, but until then, she has this little reminder of the proud blood that runs in her veins.

She barely glances at Gavin when she stands. A little smile, and she turns away, and the line of goodbyes continues without her.

As regional strife gathered like a storm, and the effects of the Rifts cast chaos as naturally as rain falling, the Inquisition grew. Freeholders from Ferelden fleeing the battles between templars and mages which raged unstemmed where no greater forces could bring them to heel; peasants from Orlais desperate to escape the deepening shadow of the War of Lions.

And from time to time, deserters and refugees from the warring factions themselves: mages who saw the fear they sowed, the creatures they were becoming in their own battles. Templars disillusioned with their corrupt leadership and addiction. Soldiers and mercenaries and conscripts sick of wading through blood.

But the roads to Skyhold were treacherous, the mountain passes uncertain in harder seasons. Slavers and bandits plagued whatever pathways were most common, and traveling the roads to clear them was among the worst routine duties assigned to Inquisitors.

And today, the Western road through the mountains was scattered with bodies.

-------

Several of them were peppered with arrows. Others had been hacked or smashed. A few horses lay dead, or whinnying shrilly in their last throes. One of them doing so was still harnessed to a companion, still as stone, kept thrashing on its side by the weight. Two bodies, still living, huddled behind the tipped-over cart still connected to them.

One of them was a human child, not even into his teens, hyperventilating and clutching his bleeding head, too stunned to keen. The other was an elven man, armored in old-looking chain mail and boiled leather in the Orlesian style, steadily nocking pale-fletched arrows to a pitted bow and turning to fire with slow care but dubious precision at the knot of men who advanced. The killers were taking care to check the bodies they passed for life, and dragged those who might be back towards the treeline from which they'd clearly planned their trap and attack.

When it was certain the little defense he'd put up wouldn't amount to anything more than a weak distraction, he leaned towards the boy, hissing, "Boy! Boy, look up, start moving, start crawling for the trees--"

Edited 2016-02-21 03:38 (UTC)

OPEN POST

celebration night - with Cullen

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pre-conclave

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bastard daughter psl

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there they lie, with dust upon their eyes