Chapter Text
KogaanSe Kaan-Blessing Of Kyne
Because you need me...
She swallowed harshly when Alduin had said that. The sound of his voice. The way it made her skin tingle. Her mouth went dry, and she couldn't speak.
Oh, it was useless to deny. She couldn't escape it. The way her heart had pounded in her ears at those words. The way he had said them. Softy, but firm in his stance, as if pledging himself to her right then and there with such simple words. Her knees went weak at those words. She wasn't sure why she felt so uncomfortable with it, as obviously she found him attractive, but...There was something about him though. Something that perturbed her. So she banished the thought from her mind.
She felt like she was betraying Cullen, for a moment, thinking about Alduin. Odd, considering she wasn't actually in a relationship with Cullen. But though they had little time to discuss it, and much more concerning matters always lie at hand, there was no denying the attraction between Bri and the Commander. She was sure everyone else at Haven could see it too.
She wondered how Cullen would feel, should he learn that Brianna actually...swooned, a little, in favor of the stranger that had rescued her, with long dark hair, like silk spun from ebony...Oh by the Maker. She palmed her face in embarrassment at such thoughts before she raced across the courtyard.
Though...did it really matter? It wasn't as if she were married; should she really feel guilty for just swooning? What was the harm? She'd yet to so much as kiss the fair haired former Templar, and their forms of affection so far had been limited to flirtatious banter, innuendo, and awkward smiles and glances. It wasn't as if she belonged to Cullen, right?
Maybe...maybe she should just wrap her arms around him and kiss him already, and perhaps that would strike Alduin from her thoughts.
Regardless, she really shouldn't be thinking about him in that way. He was a stranger she knew nothing about.
And he still frightened her. He had not outright denied that it was he who caused the hellfire of smoldering rocks to reign down from the skies at Haven. He did not deny that it was he who had driven away Corypheus. He was no mage, but...this otherworldly power of his...Oh how she was glad he had come to save her, and not kill her.
But he had yet to earn her complete trust. Perhaps with a little digging, somehow, she'd know whether or not she really could. She certainly wanted to trust him. He was quite valuable, with his power, and apparently his skills as a warrior as well.
But his eyes...so strange. Like ice; cold, vividly white, and frozen solid. So inhuman.
She would tell no one that it was him. No one should know what he did at Haven. People might think he was some sort of abomination, and unless he really was one, it would be a shame to persecute him for possessing power people didn't understand. She knew what that felt like. People may fawn over her now, but before all that she'd been persecuted by the Chantry, branded a traitor, a murderer, for possessing the Anchor.
And things were bad enough as is; wrought with rifts, political intrigue in Orlais, the fact that corrupted Templars in league with the Elder One at Therinfal had learned that someone planned to assassinate the Empress of Orlais. She couldn't be certain if they were connected to it, or if it were a plot configured by the mages in Redcliffe, or the Elder One's plan, but they had certainly been interested in it.
Though the note she had found gave no clue as to who specifically would kill her, or when. As to the reason why? To cause chaos. Which certainly sounded like something Corypheus would play a hand in. Add that to the possibility that the Wardens that went missing were also corrupted by the Elder One? An army of them? That would mean war against them.
War against Grey Wardens, when all she had to go on was a hunch, for the most part, vague information relayed from an exiled Warden? She trusted Marian's information, but how much trust could they put in the Warden's?
Not to mention an army of rebel mages, caches of Red Lyrium, and Venatori to add to the list of distresses.
The last thing anyone needed was to know that among them was a man that could very well destroy all of Skyhold, if he so chose, with merely a word spoken. Best she could do to reassure herself was to keep in her mind that Alduin had saved her from certain death, and pledged to obey her every command. Of course, that disturbed her as well. She refused to be anyone's master.
Inquisitor perhaps, leader and commander of an army that pledged to aid in restoring order, sure...But the master of a slave? No, she would be no such thing...She debated upon Alduin simply misunderstanding instruction given. That maybe he was meant to serve her in similar fashion as Cassandra served the Inquisitor, not gravel at her feet and follow her every step and watch her like a hawk the way he had so far.
Well, maybe 'graveling at her feet' was a slight exaggeration.
The Trevelyan family was distantly related to the people of Tevinter. The Tevinter Imperium enslaved the elves of Thedas, and how it sickened her that she was even remotely close to that, by another possibly being enslaved to her. Not pledged to the Inquisition, nor to her as she was now Inquisitor, but... She refused to believe that was how the Maker saw fit for him to behave. An abomination of a thought to her. Though maybe she was overreacting.
Thank the Maker he wasn't an elf. That would be hard to explain to people.
She would get to the bottom of it, one way or another. She would find out exactly why he was sent to her, in what capacity she 'needed him', and do everything in her power to liberate him. Perhaps that was what it was. He was tasked with serving her, and it was a test of her own will. That she would release him from service, grant him his freedom, and perhaps in some small way, it would be a bit of justice served in defiance of her ancestors.
To right their previous wrongs. Or, at least, that was how she was beginning to see it.
For the moment, she would continue to sink arrows into the mud behind her target, and lament over her pitiful lack of skill with a bow. How she hated to confess to someone how weak she felt, but...Alduin proved to be a good listener. He did not deny her weakness, or shower her with praise, fawn over her like the others seemed inclined to do. Merely suggested she learn to fight.
Well, learn to fight she would then. Maybe she just needed the right teacher. And then she could be free of her need for Alduin.
Her need for him...She blushed at such thoughts that came to mind.
"You need to do something about your creepy friend," came a voice, and Bri looked down to see Varric at her side.
"What did Cole do now?" She asked as she resumed target practice.
"No, not the Kid," he said. "The new guy. What's-his-name. Tall, scary, speaks ominously? That one. Al-whatever."
"Alduin?"
"Yeah. He seems a...little unhinged."
"What did he do?" She asked.
"It wasn't what he did, it's just what he said. You might want to keep an eye on him. He has 'crazy psychopath axe murderer' written all over him."
She didn't know why, but the way Varric said that actually made her laugh. "I know, he's a little intimidating, isn't he?"
"Understatement of the year," he remarked. "All I'm saying is...Be careful around that guy. And if you're going to let him stay, be sure he's on our side first."
The elf stepped into the main hall of the dilapidated castle and looked around. Walls crumbled, floors in disarray, though already there were people about, picking up the loose boards and assessing the mess for themselves. There was not enough manpower to take on such an enormous project, and everyone seemed well aware of this. Their expressions calm, but their eyes full of worry, added to the already present worries.
But they would make do. Make the place liveable once more, one way or another.
Already, the Inquisition's advisers sent word to remaining Templars in Ferelden, and to Lady Josephine's noble allies in Val Royeux. Along with any that were stationed in the Hinterlands, the Storm Coast, and Fallow Mire, that could spare resources. Just that morning they recieved word, from Dennet at Redcliffe farms, who would be sending a league of forders, and some able bodied men that volunteered their services, himself included.
Solas moved to lean against the doorway from the hall to the atrium, watching people carry out flecks of wood, and enter with crates of food meant for the stores on the lower level. Their remaining rations. He was just about to turn away, and enter the vestibule behind him when he saw another entering the keep.
Dressed from head to toe in black, as dark as the raven hair on his head, scaled armor with a tear in the side, hardly noticeable, but enough of a tear to compromise the integrity of the intriguing cuirass. He towered over the others that scurried about, looking around the large room, eyeing the ceiling, and the large glass window at the head of the room, overshadowing the altar, illuminating the throne.
His steps were slow, indeliberate, aimless as he soaked in the magnitude of the room. Seeing an oppurtunity for conversation, Solas walked quietly over to stand beside him, silently watching before Alduin finally noticed him. When he did, Solas carefully masked his intrigue with a cool and collected smile.
"This place has a rich history, you know," he said evenly. "In its day, it was a grand architectural acheivement."
"I've seen better," Alduin countered with an even, but not quite disinterested tone, provoking a smirk from Solas. Though he served the Herald of Andraste diligently, it seemed he was not without arrogance.
"So have I," Solas remarked cheekily. "But, you must admit, there is no more fitting place for the grandness that will be the Herald's legacy, provided it sees proper repair. Do you intend on lending a hand?"
"Do you?" Alduin turned to stare coldly at Solas.
"I will do what I can. But I have already done enough," Solas narrowed his eyes.
"I'm sure you have," Alduin said dryly. My, this creature had such convincing lack of emotion, in the elf's opinion. Or...was he actually Tranquil?
"I find your mannerisms most intriguing," Solas remarked. "Is it part of your writ of servitude? Or akin to where you hail from?"
"Where is the Undercroft?" Alduin asked then, abruptly changing the subject.
"That way," Solas gestured to the correct door at the end of the hall, and with that, Alduin walked briskly that direction, the cape that draped over his armor billowing as he did so, with no more words to share with Solas. He wanted to laugh aloud. He was certain the man didn't like him. Though what interested him was...why? What was it about Solas that he didn't find favor in?
When he had been but accomodating, and merciful, when he could've left him to die in the snow, but instead united him with his 'master'? Oh Solas couldn't wait to learn why. He was most certain that Brianna would tell him eventually. If not, perhaps dear Cole could grant him some insight, a clue perhaps, as to what made this man tick. For Solas desperately wanted to know. Enough to be tempted to find out for himself, if need be.
As soon as the door to the undercroft closed behind him, Alduin's muscles relaxed. As if he'd held his breath for too long and was now finally breathing air once again. That Solaas irritated him.
The steps arced downward into the lower pit, revealing a cavern, man-made, that opened to the formidable weather beyond the borders of the keep. There was a platform, in which two sets of steps led down to the left and right of the room, and Alduin could see a man sitting on a stool, wiping sweat from his brow, taking a brief intermission from his struggle to put things together within the croft. Workbench and tools lay nearby, and an unlit furnace.
"Damn flint," the man cursed, then threw a rock to the stone floor at his feet, as snow drifted across it. Then he huffed.
"Are you Herrit?" Alduin asked, startling the man a bit. He nodded in confirmation.
"Oy, I remember you," he rubbed his chin. "The man that braved the storm and brought the Herald of Andraste back to us." He rose to his feet. "An honor to meet. What can I do for you?"
Alduin began unbuckling his armor, setting it piece by piece on the bench.
"The Herald informed me that you could repair it," he said to him. Herrit shrugged.
"If I knew what it was made of, sure...I suppose," he said, scratching his head.
"Dragon hide," Alduin answered, betting his life on the morbid possibilty that they used his own skin to form that armor during his transformation. Herrit continued to examine.
"Dragon skin, eh?" he remarked. "You kill it yourself? Pretty good handywork."
Did he kill himself? Alduin had to think about that for a moment. Rather entertaining of a thought.
"I suppose I could work with it," Herrit told him. "Some onyx might do the trick. Sturdy material. Leave that sword too. I'll sharpen it right up for ya. No charge. Consider it gratitude for doing your part to help restore the Inquisition by bringing us Lady Trevelyan." Herrit folded his arms, and nodded his head. Alduin shrugged and loosed the leather strap of his blade off his shoulders and lay it on the armor.
"You're a blacksmith," Alduin stated the obvious. "You can forge blades."
"Aye, that I can, best blades in the south, if I do say so misself...if I could ever get that blasted furnace lit," he muttered.
It was no trouble for Alduin to stride over to the furnace, utter a Word of Power quietly, and light it aflame, leaning back out of the way when the flames roared to life, and Herrit quickly ambled over.
"By the Maker," he said, as he stared at the flames. "Much...much obliged to you. I can certainly forge some bits now." He glanced up at Alduin.
The dragon couldn't quite read the human's expression.
"Consider it gratitude for the pair of daggers you're going to make," he replied.
"Daggers, eh? Who are they for?" Herrit questioned.
"The Herald," Alduin answered.
Herrit chuckled. "Ah. I'd stake my life on her fairin' a lot better with a pair of dirks. Told her so, some months ago. But she wouldn't listen. Think she's a bit squeamish at the thought of gettin' up close an' personal."
Alduin ran his fingertips along the scales of his armor as Herrit spoke. Squeamish, he said. "She won't be when I'm done with her," he said.
"Well, best of luck to you. I'll send someone for you when they're ready." He held out his hand to shake Alduin's. He tentatively accepted. This means of touching other mortals while communicating was irratating. But...intriguing. Much softer sort of people than even the mortals of Nirn, he contemplated absentmindedly. Alduin nodded his head, then departed from the blacksmith's company.
He wondered, as he marched back up the steps, with lighter footing now that he only wore a shirt, pants, and boots, without his sword weighing on his back...if all humans in this land were as soft as they. Tragedy made humans of Nirn violent, left them in a state of unrest, invoking war. Blood spilt century after century in the name of the ones they called their Gods, fighting to claim the patch of dirt they lived, shit, and died on...But here? Were these people the same? He couldn't be sure.
Here these people carried one another on their backs, and...showed humility. In the face of something meant to devour their world, a sunvaar, they sang. And they did not follow a mighty warrior, but instead they followed a young maiden with a soft heart. That was different. He didn't expect that. Was this the entirety of it?...Or was there more that separated them from his realm? He found himself suddenly very interested in learning the history of this one.
Other thoughts plagued him quite suddenly as well.
Not too long ago, Alduin saw all mortals as weak, quick to end, and joor meant nothing more than a pestilence to stamp out if he could not control it.
But now that he himself was joor, was his opinion meant to change? Was this what Aetherius planned? Gifting him with a vahdin for a superior?
At the very least, he'd get the chance to see a new and different world, brought by this experience. He felt brand new again, at the moment, clueless, and curious. It was...interesting. Especially when he thought of the Herald.
He pondered all that for a moment.
Brii was praised as a hero, worshipped as a leader in an hour of need, when a veil of darkness would close over, and swallow them up, engulf them in flame, choke them in ash. Though she was weak in ways of war and combat...she was soft-hearted, and sympathetic. This did not make her weak...but instead, it made her the very opposite of a dragon's nature. It was that simple, really.
Much like Et'Ada had their counterparts, 'benevolent' Aedra and the 'malevolent' Deadra. Like Mara, Akatosh, or Stendarr of mercy, the mortals called them, compared to the House of Trouble. He could not understand why she would see mercy as weakness, and not see that she was simply the opposing element, the water to fire. Where he desired to destroy, she desired to mend. To create...to grow.
The fiber of being that Nords worshipped as Kyne. Kaan. The Cyrodiilans called her Kynareth. She held many other names as well, but just as she was the summer wind, she was also the winter storm. A force of fury and might. She gifted mortals with the Thu'um, in so proving her defiant nature, but the Herald had yet to show hers in battle. Brii was the eye of the storm, indeed, but she, herself, needed to grow.
Brii confessed that she was weak, to him and him alone, in part because he had been the one to see her perceived weakness infront of the sunvaar. She gifted him with such knowledge, and so it seemed he could make use of it. He could remove her perceived weakness with instruction, just as he had with the sivaas, the Iron Bull. He could teach her to fight.
Perhaps he was the only one there that could.
She reminded him of Kaan, and perhaps that's why the Aedra sent him to her, for she was the opposite of the World Eater's nature. And perhaps why he was drawn to her in the most unusual fashion.
And perhaps his little Goddess of the Sky needed a Dragon to invoke her fury. And until she could, said dragon, Alduin, would guard her. He would be her storm until she found her own fury and fire.
And hopefully he would be free of this body all that much sooner.
So that day he hatched a plan to teach Brii to fight as a dragon would, but not before seeking out the boy at Skyhold that might know his secret.
Notes:
Translations:
Joor-'mortal'
Vahdin-'maiden'
Sunvaar-'creature' as in monster.
Sivaas-'creature' as in beast or animal.
Kaan-the dragon name for Kyne/Kynereth
Chapter Text
Faas Los Thaarn-Fear Is Obedience
The sun set, and night descended upon Skyhold all too quickly.
Bri met Bull in the tavern, just as he had asked, and after being fit into awkward Inquisition melee gear, riddled with holes and scratches from battle, and her flaming hair was discreetly tucked under an iron helmet, she strode outside with him to sit and drink with some soldiers. She said nothing, lest her voice give away who she was, and simply listened to the stories they had to tell.
Bri wasn't the only one who had never picked up a blade before the Inquisition.
Some were farmhands, merchants, traders, pilgrims from the Chantry. Not all were Templars, trained in the ways of battle since their teens. But some were, though they were just as frightened by the magnitude of the Breach, the Rifts, and the Elder One. It made Bri feel better to know that she wasn't the only one who felt like the weight of the entire world was on her shoulders. In truth, the weight was on everyone's shoulders.
Some more than others. Like the some that died at Haven, of which Josephine and Leliana already commissioned emissaries to erect a memorial in their name.
As she listened, they talked about the Herald, and Bri saw exactly how people saw her. It was different, hearing her name spoken to her as if it were a different person. Bull greatly approved of her taking the time to listen, and bid her goodnight when they departed, patting her on the shoulder. She didn't mention to him how foolish it was that they believed in her like they did, but at least she knew she wasn't the only one who was afraid.
She released a heavy sigh as she dressed once more in her brown leather scout coat, and pulled her boots up over her trousers. The tavern, Herald's Rest, they decided to call it, was already filled to the brim with folks, taking refuge from the bitter cold outside, slumping down on chairs, resting their heads on tables, some leaned against the wall as they reclined on the floor.
Bri looked around at the room, seeing the faces of those who slept, ate their meager rations, or drank.
The tavern had some ungodly aged wine in it, left behind by whoever lived there before, the whereabouts of which Solas did not mention...wine that was so strong one could take a mere sip and feel dizzy. It warmed bellies, and drowned sorrows. Bri herself was about to ask for a drink, when she heard footsteps at the top of the stairs, and looked up to see a dark haired man descending them.
Alduin had left the Undercroft, in search of the fair haired child that could read minds, when he was stopped out in the hall by someone else.
Thankfully, not the Mer whose very existence vexed him. It was a woman with dark hair, brown skin, and a golden frock. If gold had a smell, he guessed that was what this woman smelled like. Rich, gleaming, and she darted right to him when she saw him, purposefully seeking conversation with him. Before she could say a word, he responded to her approach.
"Yes, I am aware that I am the one who brought the Herald back," he stated in a dour, and exhausted tone.
"I see too many people have been pointing that out," the woman said with a bit of a curl of the lip, though with wide eyes, and a nervous lilt in her voice. "Lady Josephine Montilyet," she curtsied. "I am Brianna's ambassador. I speak for the Inquisition when the Inquisitor herself is otherwise indisposed," she stated with a more confident voice.
"Alduin," he introduced plainly. She didn't so much as bat an eyelash to his name.
"A pleasure," she said. "I wonder if I might borrow a moment of your time."
His time was better spent searching out the boy who could read minds, then searching out Brii, but...he resisted the urge to light her on fire, and nodded his head, though not without feeling his jaw clench in irritation.
"Follow me, if you would," she said, gesturing to the door behind her. Meaning to talk without the ears of others to listen? This drew in curiosity on Alduin's part.
"As you must know," she began when they entered the room beyond, "The Inquisition will need time to rebuild, as our resources are limited..." By Akatosh, this woman spoke the mortal tongue too fast..."And we are still too few in number to take on an enemy directly," She sat down at the desk while Alduin struggled to decipher her string of words, and her unusual voice, "Myself, Sister Leliana, and the Commander, of which you have met, surely you remember?" She paused, and Alduin could ony blink. "Right, well, we as her advisers must do all we can in the meantime to send word to allies, and bolster our numbers and...Well, I've had some difficulties and I wondered..."
She cleared her throat.
"You wondered?" Alduin repeated, mainly so he could be sure that was actually what she said.
"I have asked the Herald before if she would be interested in contacting her family in Ostwick, and she declined. Her reason of course was that she was disinclined to think,"...Why did his skull feel so tight inside his head? "...that they would be of any aid to us, as she had not spoken to them for many years, but...seeing as you are her...um...her servant? Yes? That you, perhaps, would be willing to contact her family in her stead?"
Alduin let out a slight breath through his nose. She wanted him to contact the Herald's kin. He had no idea who they were. Or where Ostwick was.
"We need every ally now more than ever. And maybe...just maybe, you could-"
"No," he said bluntly. Though he could not tell the Herald 'no', he found some small satisfaction in the disappointment that washed over this woman's face when he could clearly decline her request at least. He relished in it for a moment. "If Brii were to instruct me to speak to them, I would do so. But I have been given no such order," he added.
"Well...maybe you could convince her to speak to them?" she persisted, looking hopefully up at him. He placed his hands on the desk and leaned in close.
"No," he said again. "Krosis," he amended, then realized his mistake. "Apologies," he corrected. The number of times he'd apologized to a mortal was growing. This was not enjoyable. "If she does not want to speak to them, then she does not want to speak to them. I cannot dissuade her, vahdin." he relented. She had leaned back in her chair, looking very bothered by him.
"Well then," she huffed. "At least you're loyal, if nothing else. You can't say I didn't try at least...Do you not own clothing that isn't...nothing but black?" she asked suddenly. "The way you dress, add that to your ungentlemanly behavior...it's rather frightening, you should know." She wrinkled her brow.
Ungentlemanly behavior?
"People here are frightened of me?" he asked, she nodded.
"While we are...grateful for what you have done for the Herald...it's uh, well, you should know...You're terrifying," she asserted. Then she wrung her hands.
"Good," he said, standing up straight. "Fear begets obedience. They should fear me, should they choose to harm Brii, in any way, one red hair on her head...I would cut out their hearts and eat them for such offense."
"That's absolutely revolting!" she gasped. "And...oddly, it's also rather...romantic." She stifled laughter, putting one hand over her mouth, and the other over her heart. Her face turned as red as Brii's hair. Then she ahemed. "A little morbid, but...well, clearly you have the best intent."
Romantic? What was romantic? What did that word mean?
Alduin nodded curtly to the woman, dismissing himself, before he became more confused, and troubled, by her conversation than he already was. He let out a slight groan when he closed the door behind him, shaking his head, attempting to shake off the odd feeling crawling down his spine. He then marched straight for the wide wooden door that led outside, in search of the young blond haired boy he aimed to interrogate.
He was nowhere to be found outside, but there was a smaller building at the bottom of the steps in which candles burned, as the sun had set, and night fell upon the occupants. He pushed the door to the building open to hear a low rumble of conversation imbuing. If the boy was there, he was certain he would be far away from the others. He didn't seem to enjoy company, other than Brii's.
He made a line directly toward the steps leading up and climbed them. Straining to put one foot in front of the other. Feeling the stitches in his side start to pull apart from his skin. He ignored it, and continued ascending the wooden staircase.
At the top, a boy paced. Tufts of yellow hair jutted out from underneath a large hat. The boy was mumbling, and stood up right, staring straight at Alduin with overly large eyes, though the dragon had been sure he made no sound. Regardless, the boy knew he was there, and backed away when Alduin approached. Fear...he knew that look on a mortal's face. Fear was written all over this boy, he could almost smell it.
"Fire burns...burns everything away...and ashes fall instead of snow," the boy mumbled. "You'll burn everything away...wont you?"
Alduin stopped in his tracks. So the boy did indeed know what he was. He leaned his head to the side and eyed him carefully.
"You know what I am?" he asked, though knowing the answer, he still wanted to hear it. "You needn't fear me, boy," he assured. "I will do no harm to one who is loyal to Brii."
"Brii...her name means beauty...flaming hair...skin as smooth as glass...a touch...a touch I cannot name...When I touch her skin I feel...something..." The boy suddenly stopped rambling, repeating things that sounded eerily familiar to the dragon.
"So is it true then? You can peer into the minds of others?" Alduin asked. The boy turned away from him. "I am Alduin. What is your name?" he then asked, since everyone seemed so adamant about names. Relenting names begot familiarity, trust, like shaking a hand, he supposed. The boy didn't trust him yet. He fidgeted where he stood.
"My name is Cole," he answered, moving to lean over the rail and watch the people below, much like Brii had done before confessing her weaknesses. "I can hear their pain. It's...so much...so loud...so much pain...their hearts, their heads, they ache. I try to help...but with you..." He scratched his head, fidgeting where he stood. "I can't...I can't understand it..." He turned around. "I won't tell her. You hope that I won't tell her. I don't want to lie to her, she's my friend. But I won't tell her. Because you don't want to hurt her. You want to help her."
"Help who?" Alduin wrinkled his brow, wondering what part of this conversation was this boy speaking, or...sensing...or whatever it was.
"'Beauty'." he replied. "If I tell her, it might hurt her. I don't want to hurt her. She needs you...but you need her too. To help you understand...At first I thought you weren't human. But...no, that's not it, is it? You're human, but...you don't know how to be human...You can't...No. That's wrong." He shook his head. "You can feel. But you don't know how...That's it. You don't know how to feel. Not yet." He hung his head. "That's why I couldn't help. Because I don't know either. That's how I know."
Alduin leaned his head to the side, suddenly interested in this part of the conversation. What exactly was this boy?
"What do you mean I don't know how to feel?" he asked.
"Everything humans can feel...You don't understand what they meant, because dragons don't have a word for it. But people do. You just need to know the word. And then you can learn to feel it."
Cole stepped closer.
"You need to know what she wants," he said. "What she feels. So you can feel it too...Brittle like a breaking branch that will snap if someone steps on me...and no one...no one will..." He scratched his head, trying to find the words. Then he growled. "Ugh. It's so...so..." He sighed. Then he stood up straight. "She's here, she's downstairs," he said fervently. "You can ask her. She'll tell you how she feels. Go."
He waved his hands, ushering Alduin back downstairs.
To see flaming red hair, fallen loose from its braid, and green eyes looking up at him when she heard his footsteps. Her expression was not a happy one, but it was not fueled by anger. Blank. Calm, serene. She waved for him to follow her.
"Come," she said when he was close enough to hear. "Drink with me."
Now that sounded like an order at least. Close enough. Alduin let out a small sigh of relief.
Notes:
I hope I didn't anger too many Cole fans. I won't lie, I absolutely adore Cole, but he's a very hard character to write. He will be in many chapters to come, as his character has a big impact on Alduin, and I sincerely hope I've done him some justice, at least.
*Hides from angry fans behind an angrier dragon*
Please don't hate me!
Chapter 3: Komeyt Rot
Chapter Text
Komeyt Rot-Loose words/Loose tongue
Bri had not expected to see Alduin within the Herald's Rest, but since he was there, and clearly did not intend to heed her advice about resting...and she wasn't tired either...she figured that now was as good of a time as any to get to know him. Perhaps if she could get him drinking, she could get some truth out of him. She hated resorting to such behavior, but if he had to follow a command given, then it might as well be that one.
She made a promise it would be the last, however.
He followed closely as she stepped over sleeping bodies to nab an unopened bottle of wine from behind the bar, and then waved for him to follow her to a secluded part of the tavern. She imagined the information he would give when inebriated enough to loosen his tongue was not information others should be privy to. She bade him to sit at the table, and drug a chair around to sit beside him.
He watched her with interest the entire time that she sat, screwed a corkscrew into the top and pried the bottle open. Or...tried to, anyway. Alduin held out his hand, and reluctantly, she handed him the bottle. Need him she did, indeed.
He handed back the bottle, absent of its cork, and she poured wine into cups for them. There was nothing to toast to, apperently, as immediately Alduin brought the drink to his nose, sniffed it, then took a drink. He winced at the taste. Much like he did when he drank her last healing potion. She resisted a laugh. The way he wrinkled his nose was...cute.
"What's in this?" he asked, staring at the contents of the cup.
"You've never drank wine before, have you?" she countered. "Well, you could hardly call it wine. Who knows how long it's been here, collecting dust. I imagine it's older than both of us put together," she shrugged, before taking a drink.
Shuddering at the taste of it, same as he. He stared at her as she did, probably wondering if either should really drink the godforsaken alcohol.
"I don't drink either," she admitted to him. "My mother never approved. She said it 'wasn't very lady-like'." She mocked her mother's tone of voice a little. By the Maker, she sounded more like her, the older she got, didn't she? "Perhaps it's time I stopped being so lady-like." She took another drink, and so did Alduin, the second one going down a bit smoother than the first.
"Why do you not speak to your family?" he asked then, unexpectedly. She glanced up at him. She hadn't planned on the subject of conversation being about her, and hoped it would veer more towards him, but they hardly knew eachother. She supposed it couldn't hurt to open up. She had already in regards to her feelings of failure and uselessness, after all.
"Who told you I don't?" she questioned first, before deciding her answer.
"The one called Josephine," he retorted, with no hesitation. "She wanted me to contact them, and I told her I would not. Not without permission. In truth, zu'u mindok ni hin zeymah." He paused, glancing down at his cup, then wiped his hand across his face in frustration. The drink was already starting to kick in, and Bri had to resist a victorious smile. Alduin growled. "I know not who your kin are," he pressed, using the common tongue.
"I bet that was an interesting conversation to bumble through," she jeered a little. "Josephine tends to ask a lot of questions. I bet she asked some interesting ones." She raised a brow, eyeing him from behind her cup as she took another sip.
"She talks too fast," he said plainly, still staring at his drink. Begrudgingly, he took another sip. Bri imagined it was easing the discomfort in his side, otherwise he would probably throw the cup to the floor in disgust. "So...why do you not speak to your family?" he asked again.
Bri sighed. "Well, I don't really have much as far as family. Had an older brother, but he died before I was born. And then when my mother died...my father and I became distant. We stopped talking altogether when I told him I intended to devote my life the Chantry, rather than take over the family's estate."
She looked up at Alduin, who had been listening, but she wondered how much he actually understood. He seemed so disconnected to her story, though silent, dutifully paying attention.
"There was an explosion," she informed. "At the Temple of Sacred Ashes, where myself and many others met...I was the only one to survive."
There it was again, the look that told her he had no idea of anything happening in Thedas prior to showing up at Haven. The very idea striking quite oddly to her. Sent to serve her, but he didn't know why. Not truly, anyway. She concluded her story.
"The explosion was how I got the Anchor, I'm certain. The destruction caused by Corypheus. Josephine asked if I wanted to tell my father when we were at Haven, but I told her not to. I don't want it to burden him. I'm sure he already knows, but he has enough worries, without mine adding to that list. I wrote him a letter once. But I never sent it."
She took another drink, and glanced down at his side.
He had actually taken her suggestion and left his armor with Herrit, she assumed. He wore nothing but his tunic, trousers, and scaled boots. She could see the hole in his shirt where a bear slashed with its claws, and partially see the bandage underneath. No fresh blood. Seemed his stitches were still intact. It was interesting how big he still looked, even without the armor. A little unsettling as well.
"So what about you? Have you any family, Alduin?" she asked him, nudging the subject of conversation his direction, now that he had drained his cup. She poured him another drink while he debated on an answer.
"No," he said plainly, to her dissapointment. She sighed.
"Well, you must have something you can tell me about yourself. We barely know one another. If you're going to be here, in service to me, we can't be strangers. You have to tell me something, at least," she pressed.
"If you wish, thuri." He called her that word again. Such a curious word. Curious language too. "...I was...born in a place called Akavir." he said. "Traveled great distances. Across the seas, for most of my life. A home, I had not. Family, I had not. But I had a purpose." He paused to drink. "Once, I was called thuri by others. And now, that title is yours. Whether I like it or not." He finished his words with disdain. "Mulhaan hin kah," he muttered quietly into his cup. "Still your pride," he repeated in the common tongue.
"Your language. What's it called? Will you teach it to me?" she asked then. "It...it might make things easier for us, if I can understand it." He looked up at her.
"Tinvaak se dov," he said. "Dragon tongue." He carefully leaned back in the chair, the smallest expression of discomfort on his face brought by his injury. He didn't like anyone seeing him in such a weak state, did he? Very prideful, this one. Even when tipsy.
"Dragon tongue?" she raised a brow. "Interesting name for it. Why is it called that?" she leaned her head in interest as she asked.
"It's the language dragons speak," he replied.
"Dragons?" she chuckled. "You can talk to dragons where you're from? Next thing, you'll be telling me you were raised by dragons." She laughed a little in her disbelief. Then she leaned in closer, peeling back locks of raven hair from the side of his head.
"What are you doing?" he asked, flinching when she touched him.
"Checking your ears," she grinned. "Cole thinks you aren't human. I was looking for pointed ears. Well, you're not elven, or Qunari, so there's that."
She drew away, her hand briefly touching his cheek before coming back to rest in her lap, and she felt a little embarrassed. He was certainly handsome. Too bad that face of his was hidden behind long strands of black silk for the most part, as if he were more animal than man. Maybe he was raised by dragons. It would explain a lot about him. Not his unusual power, however.
"I am human," he assured. "And no. Not 'raised by dragons', but I can speak to them. if you must know." He set down his cup. "Daar viidost," he muttered. It sounded like a curse. "Are you sure this is wine? I've seen the joor of Nirn drink wine like it was water. Either this is stronger, or they are stronger. I don't know which."
Before Bri could ask more about Nirn, Alduin said something unexpected, and surprising.
"The elf, Solas. I don't like the way he smells. You should let me kill him." He looked up at her from his cup sitting on the table. Straight faced he had said that. As if he were suggesting she should let him get up from the table, or go outside. As if it were trivial of a thing. She choked on her drink when he said it.
"What?" She laughed a little in her nervousness. "By the Maker, no! I'm not going to let you...kill him. He's my friend." She wrinkled her brow. "Because you don't like the way he smells?" she huffed. "What kind of person does that?" She snatched up his cup and poured it in her own. "I need this more than you do," she affirmed. "You weren't raised by dragons, you were raised by heathens," she scoffed. "You're barbaric."
"Krosis," he said. "I didn't say I would kill him. I said you should let me. But I won't. If you will not demand such a thing from me." He nodded.
"Wait...are you saying you...would kill him, if I commanded you to? Just like that? Without asking why?" she asked, and he nodded. She sighed. "Alduin," she set down her cup, "While your, um, your obedience is...well...What if...what if I'm meant to free you?" she asked him suddenly.
This brought about curiosity, and a bit of confusion in his features.
"My ancestors had slaves. Who had no choice but to serve their masters in chains. I don't want to be apart of that. I don't want a man chained to me. Though this Inquisition has divine rights that put them above some of the laws of southern Thedas, it will not adhere to slavery. These people, yes, they serve the Inquisition. Willingly, they've given their swords to our cause, but...they are free to go. I don't hold them here against their will. No man should belong to another like that. It's...it's just not right."
She shook her head.
"Drem, vahdin," he chided. "You misunderstand. I willingly serve you. I had a choice. I chose to follow you. To aam is to serve, to give you my loyalty, but it is not to become aar, not to become a slave." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, closer to her face. "But I will do whatever you command me to do, regardless. Without question. For I swear fealty. It is of my own choice that I swear to serve you."
Bri sighed. "You swear fealty, and yet you'll give me trouble unless I give you a direct command to do something?" she questioned. "Unless I boss you around every step of the way, you'll just be a stubborn oaf of a man?" she smirked. "You don't enjoy being sworn into service, eh?" He looked up to see her smiling, and she hoped this time he understood her humor. He didn't seem to get subtlety or sarcasm much. He sighed.
"Forgive me. As I said, I have been called thuri. I commanded others, before I came to serve you. It's...hard to relinguish pride," he admitted.
Bri hung her head a little. She could understand. Her own pride got the better of her on numerous occasions. Perhaps they were very fit for one another after all. Both stubborn, prideful...yet loyal, and not lacking in conviction. She served Andraste, and he...served her. She supposed she could accept it. As long as he understood he was free to go, at any time, free to argue her decisions, free to act of his own accord without direct permission from her first before doing any little thing...
"Hi los brit, dremsevah," he said then. Bri had no idea what it meant, but it sounded beautiful. Though almost immediately after the words left his mouth his face went white, and he sat up straight once more, eyes widening a touch. Whatever he had said, he did not mean to say, and it was the drink talking. Something...inappropriate, perhaps? A compliment, or...?
"Oh what are you two tits up to?" said an exaggerated voice from the other side of the table. It was Sera, wandering over to them, drunker than they.
"I see you've been drinking," Bri stated the obvious with a smirk, and the interruption gave Alduin a moment to recover from whatever he inadvertantly said that had disturbed him.
"Yeh, well, first it was the Breach, and demons, and stupid, stupid Templars, and then the stars fallin', an archdemon, an Elder One, bloody mages, and a bunch of other shite," she counted all this off on her fingers, "So can ya blame a girl for wantin' to get shit-wasted for it? Ya can't blame me, yeah? Cuz you're drunk too," she giggled. "Snugglin' up to the scary one, eh? Thought blondie was your squeeze?" she jeered with an awful grin.
Bri sat up straight in her chair and cleared her throat. Suddenly aware of what Sera insinuated. Sitting in the corner, wine on the table, drink in hand, talking privately with Alduin...Maker help her. That was exactly what it looked like. It certainly didn't look like what it started out to be, which was getting Alduin drunk so she could interrogate him. And not all of her behavior had been appropriate.
Sera took her sudden silence as confirmation of what she suspected, and before Bri could argue against it, she let out a howl, then more laughter, and wandered back upstairs. Would do no good to chastise her, as she'd probably forget it in the morning. But would Alduin? Oh she hoped he would.
"Can I kill her?" Alduin asked as they watched Sera climb the stairs. "Her voice sounds like a hammer breaking glass." Oh that went well. At least he didn't seem bothered by Sera's rude observations...or did he get what Sera was saying? Trouble grasping subtlety, indeed.
"No, you can't kill her either," she lamented, though at the moment, Bri wished she could. Damn her to pieces. "So, if you can talk to dragons," she began, changing the subject, "What did the Archdemon have to say for itself?" she asked, daring him to answer, though he needn't so much convincing, almost shrugging as he leaned back in his chair once more.
"I couldn't understand it," he stated. "Different tongue. Had I shared tinvaak with the dov, I would have said that it should eat the sunvaar. I would've enjoyed watching him kill it," he said coldly, his eyes suddenly looking more bloodshot than what they were. She had noticed before, that his retinas were pale, but they were truly white, weren't they? Did humans have white eyes? What did it matter? She shuddered at the gleam in them, upon his words.
"You frightened of me, aren't you?" he asked then. "You needn't be."
"I can't say I'm not concerned about you," she admitted. "If you're really human, Alduin, you're unlike any human I've ever met...that's why I have not told the others about your power. You're intimidating enough as it is."
She drained the rest of her cup. Only about a cup left in the bottle. Gone so fast. She planned on finishing it. The conversation only became more disturbing, particularly when added to the dark expression still on his face. Was that really his only facial expression?...Was he mentally disturbed?
"How did you say it, 'making the stars fall'? Yes?...Not all my power is so distructive, vahdin," he said.
Then he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. He blew the unlit candle in front of him, as if blowing it out, but instead it lit. Breathing fire as if he were a dragon himself. It was magnificent. He rested his head in his folded arms, glancing over at her.
"Fire burns...burns everything away...but where there is fire, there is light," he murmered, his voice calm and even...gentle.
It surprised her, and fascinated her. She had seen mages possess some powerful magic, powerful flames, but something about this...felt different. Deeper. Bri was no mage, but even she could feel the pull of the Fade through the Anchor, but she could not feel the Fade in Alduin's magic. It was something new. However did he learn such magic? How could such a thing be gifted to a man, if indeed it somehow came from a winged serpent?
"Perhaps you have lived with dragons," she let slip absentmindedly, and, though obscured by the shadows cast by candlelight, she could swear she saw him smile at her words.
Chapter Text
Rul Fin Shul Alok-When The Sun Rises
Bri lifted her head from the table. Waking from her drunken slumber to see not one, but four empty wine bottles, two empty cups, and a candle that had burned through the night, down to the base, before extinguishing. Her face had been buried in her arms, an uncomfortable position to sleep in, and she had little memory of the night before.
She looked to her left to see Alduin next to her, in a similar position, slumped over the table, face buried in his folded arms. Still asleep, thankfully, giving her time to rise from her seat and distance herself from him. It was light out, though no golden hue from the windows, which meant the sun had yet to rise. Dawn was just breaking, at that moment.
Partway through the night she wondered if she would regret getting him drunk, fearing the possibility of him losing control and burning the tavern to the ground with his fire, or worse, the entire hold with it. But, no, that had not happened. In fact, the opposite happened. The more he drank, the more tranquil he became; the more relaxed, and content, from what she remembered.
They stayed up talking until they were the only two left awake, all the lights went out, with the exception of their little candle, that they huddled around, whispering to one another. For the most part, he spoke in his native language, and after so much conversation, he stopped correcting himself, the drink having a firm grip on his inhibition, and for what seemed like hours he told her stories in nothing but dragon tongue.
She didn't have the heart to stop him, or remind him that she didn't understand what he was saying. It sounded so beautiful. He was a terrific storyteller, very expressive with his hands, and possessed an alluring voice in his natural tongue. He became the very opposite of her first impression of him.
He had smiled. Said something to her, and actually smiled. She remembered that. The way the candle light made him look like he had fangs, his incisors just slightly more extended than the rest of his teeth. Frightening, a little, but also fascinating. As if he weren't just raised among dragonkind, but decended from them, in some way.
He kept calling her 'dremsevah', and then he leaned in close and...touched her hair. He was fascinated by it. He said 'yol do fin okaaz'. That her hair looked like an ocean made of dragonfire, or something. She remembered that too. And remembered how close his face was to hers, that he smelled softly of wood smoke and earth, not unpleasing to the nostrils, and she remembered him telling her she smelled like 'sovngarde'.
But he never said what that meant, and she didn't remember asking. But she couldn't remember much beyond that. Other than feeling like she wanted to...kiss him.
The sudden sounds of scuffling, and arguing, coming from upstairs, brought a pounding in her ears. Did she not expect to be hungover? She'd never drank that much, beyond sneaking sips from the wine cabinet when she was younger, but with that much drink, surely she'd feel god-awful in the morning, and now it kicked in. She ambled over to an empty washbasin, hovering over it, expecting to vomit at any moment, her head spinning.
But she didn't, and just stood there, waiting for the nausea to pass as she listened to the voices upstairs. They were certainly familiar ones. The sharp tone of the Seeker, followed by argument from Varric. She righted herself, smoothing down her hair, straightening the folds of her coat, and climbed the stairs.
As was expected, Cassandra had not been too thrilled to hear that Varric brought Marian Hawke to Skyhold. She had been searching for Hawke when the mess began with the Breach, even had Varric in custody, along with an unconscious Bri, after the explosion, of which the mark had been slowly poisoning her and Solas had to research. She had interrogated, and eventually pleaded with Varric to reveal the hero's location, aiming to use Hawke to help the negotiation at the Conclave, but he never relented.
Bri wondered what good that would have done anyway. If Hawke had been at Haven then, she might've died along with the rest of those lost in the blast; hero or not, she wasn't immortal. She would be of no use if she were dead. Dead people couldn't be named Inquisitor. There were laws forbidding that, Bri was sure.
But since Varric neglected to reveal her location, Hawke was alive, and instead procured information about the Wardens, albeit vague and inconclusive. And she gave them confirmation that Corypheus was indeed unkillable. Useful or not, Bri would rather know what she was up against.
Varric left the argument, throwing his hands in the air, shaking his head, and Cassandra sat down in a chair, burying her face in her hands. Bri knew the anger was not directed at her, but it made her feel worse to know that she was the second choice. If Hawke had been with the Inquisition, regardless of what Bri had done, she would have been named Inquisitor instead of Bri.
It would have been a good thing, as Bri had heard many stories about Marian's courage and determination. All rumor and conjecture that reached Bri and her father's ears in Ostwick, but point being that surely someone as renowned as Marian Hawke would have benefited them, even if not all the rumors were favorable. But what did it matter now? What was done...was done, in her mind.
"As far as I'm concerned, we could go to Crestwood right now, drag Hawke back here, and name her Inquisitor instead, Seeker," Bri said all this as she sat down across from Cassandra, hunched over, holding her aching head. "But we both know what happened at the Conclave. We both know the real culprit behind all this now. Corypheus. Regardless of who leads, or who follows, he is the enemy. Of all Thedas. He should be our focus."
"True. And...you are right, I suppose. Foolish of me to doubt your leadership, when it was I who stated that these people need you. But...to have both of you...I suppose it doesn't matter now." Cassandra hung her head. "But Varric lied to me, Brianna. How can I trust him now?"
Bri sighed. "We'll figure it out. But you have to believe he thought it was for the best, at the time anyway. You had him in chains. Asking the whereabouts of a mage who sided with fugitives of the Chantry when the rebellion started, and you, being a Seeker of Truth, a head of the Templar order, and right hand of the Divine. Honestly, Cassandra, I wouldn't have told you either. Not until I knew I could trust you with the information. Varric trusts you with it now. That has to count for something."
Cassandra groaned. "I know that. But...to hear you say it, when you put it that way, I can't argue. It's too logical." She rubbed her temple. Bri sat up straight and looked at her.
"No, no. Please. Please argue with me," she chuckled. "Since you named me Inquisitor, no one argues with me. I miss it," she pleaded, producing a laugh from the Seeker. Cassandra stood up, reaching out to help Bri up from her chair.
"Come, we need breakfast. And I imagine today will be a busy one for you, Inquisitor," she said to Bri, who smiled and nodded in agreement, thankful the dour moment was over.
Alduin lifted his head from the table to see he was alone. The Herald was elsewhere, and his head throbbed in discomfort. Viidost. Poison indeed. A drink that loosened his tongue. And Alduin couldn't even remember it. He stood up and stretched his tightened limbs, feeling suddenly dizzy for a moment.
Had Brii done it on purpose? Fed him that damnation of a liquid so that he would tell her who he was? Thankfully, he had not, as far as he knew. But still, he couldn't rightly remember. He only remembered going to see a blacksmith, who had his armor, speaking to a woman who squeaked at his confirmation that he would rip apart any who should harm the Herald, and then...Brii. Ordering him to sit and drink with her. And little else.
Dragons don't have a word for it...
Someone had said that to him. But who? Who had he spoken to besides Josephine, and Brii?...Solaas? No, it was not him. He avoided tinvaak with the elf at all cost, only choosing to grant him words rather than release his Thu'um out of respect for Brii. Though he had wanted to. Desperately. And he remembered all the elf said to him. So who could it have been? And what was it that Dov had no word for?
You don't know how to feel...
He didn't know how to feel...what? Pain? Decay? Death? No, he did not understand pain, did not understand this cruel joke called mortality that he was cursed with. Though had he known that it would feel this way, with aching bones and a splitting skull, he would have taken his sword and ran it through his ribs before meeting his thur.
But now that he had met her, the dremsevah, he...wanted to endure it. Wanted to endure mortality. The price to pay for being in her company, to learn from her, to teach her...teach her the ways of a dragon. An honor he would never have bestowed upon anyone else. To teach her to be more than just the calm summer wind, but mold her into a firestorm, like her hair....her hair....He vaguely remembered touching it.
Producing the sensation washing over him once more...the thing he could not name. For dragons did not have a word for such a thing?
He quietly went outdoors, hesitant to disturb the sleeping individuals scattered about. The sun was just beginning to rise, and the feel of it made his skin dampen. Sweat. And the light was already so bright that it nearly blinded him. And he thirst. Water. He needed water. And lots of it. He begrudgingly made his feet move, making his way over to a well, procuring the bucket from the depths of it.
The first bucket full of stale water he drank feverishly. The second, he dumped over his head, rinsing his body and hair from the salty liquid that wetted him.
He felt slightly renewed, with the exception to the tinge in his side where Brii attempted to heal him. It hurt less from the wine she fed him, though not by much now, as the effects wore off. Perhaps drinking wasn't so bad, but he would do well to remember to never drink with Brii again.
But wine also had a more interesting effect. He didn't remember dreaming, a fact that came as a blessing, considering the memories that flooded his mind every time he slept. Unless it had been a dream that he touched her hair, the ocean of fire, and got so close to her that he could smell her skin. He didn't know what to call the smell, for he'd never experienced it before.
Dragons did not have a word for that either? The way it felt as if he'd entered Sovngarde, drank the souls of the dead, and felt power that none could ever possess. As if her very essence screamed to his dragon spirit within. He had let it slip from his tongue that she smelled of such a thing, hadn't he? He had been...bonaar. He had submitted to her drink, and to her soft words. Mey. A fool he had been before her.
Someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to see a human, with dark hair covering his head and face. Shorter than he, though not as short as Varric. A warrior, with a shortsword at his hip, and shield slung over his shoulder. Finally, a logical fighter. He was no dragon, and a shield made to substitute where he lacked in thick dragon scales. If only the sivaas followed this man's principals.
"You look like you drank and slept with the horses, my friend," the man said to him with a smirk. "Warden Blackwall." He held out his hand. "Haven't had the chance to properly meet."
Alduin shook his hand, too tired to fret over the troubles of touching other people, and too tired to properly introduce, merely nodded his head in favor of the man.
"Bull's up. And I heard he's been looking for you. You owe him a rematch. But you look like shit." The man looked him over and chuckled. "The bloody hell you get into last night?...Or should I ask who did you get into?"
Alduin stared at the man. What was he insinuating?
"Where is Iron Bull?" he asked Blackwall, once more splashing water on his face, then wiping excess with his sleeve. Blackwall nodded toward the inn.
"He just went inside," he said. "Get yourself cleaned up and talk to him. I've got money on this fight." He winked, clapped Alduin on the back, and walked away. A fight sounded good. A chance to teach the Iron Bull a lesson once more. That you don't argue with a dragon.
He righted himself and went back inside sometime later, to sit and eat with the sivaas and his band of misfit warriors. The Chargers, they were called. Ragged looking things, riddled with scars, and horrible singing voices that made the drunkest Nords preferable. But they were fighters, found honor in battle, regardless of the origin of such. To them it did not matter, be it bandits, demons, or anything else, they either would, or had fought it, and took great pleasure in it.
Bull said that a great honor among his people, warriors of the Qun, was fighting a dragon, but that he'd settle for Alduin. He did not know this orin brit ro. It was utter poetry.
When they ventured outdoors, already a crowd had gathered. Apparently the Warden Blackwall spread the word that a fight was to commence, and people gawked at Iron Bull and Alduin, while the Bull shrugged off his shoulder guard and bracers.
"Figure I'll make it less of a challenge for you," the sivaas goaded.
"You offend me," Alduin remarked as he peeled his own shirt from his body and cast it to the ground. The horned creature leaned his head, eyeing Alduin's injury for moment.
"Not as much as fighting half a man offends me," Bull chuckled.
The dragon shrugged.
"That is fair," Alduin amended, as the two squared up to fight.
...Several minutes later the two of them were already in a frenzy. Bull opted to fight to submission, though Alduin relented that a fight to the death made for better entertainment. Bull laughed, and agreed, though was quick to mention how furious Brii would be at such a notion. There was no arguing that, and the two dodged swings, and wrestled one another, Bull becoming far more challenging of a fighter with no hammer to hinder him, and full focus on Alduin's movement.
"Why do you not carry a shield?" Alduin asked absentmindedly as he dodged the sivaas' swing.
"Don't need one," he answered, as he in turn dodged a right hook, circling in pattern with Alduin's step.
"Why not?" the dragon asked, before ramming his shoulder into the beast, knocking him back against the stone behind him, making onlookers leap out of the way.
"Vitaar," he answered gruffly, producing a quizzical expression from Alduin, who leaned his head. He pointed to the red marks painted on his skin. "Magic. Strong as any armor."
"That explains a lot. Still, it does not explain why you're too weak to wield a hammer with one hand," he mocked, as he leapt out of the way when the Bull charged at him. Bull turned, grunting in frustration. He rounded on him, aiming to snatch him up, when the shrill voice of an aggravated woman stopped them both.
It seemed their folly was over.
Notes:
Did any of you catch that while he was drunk, he basically told Bri she smelled like heaven? Lol
Translations:
Dremsevah–‘the peace of/brought by spring’
Viidost–poison
Bonaar–to make or become humbled.
Orin Brit Ro–‘fully beautiful balance’/the idiom for ‘irony’
Sivaas–‘creature/beast’. Once again, not to be confused with Alduin’s name for Corypheus, sunvaar, meaning ‘creature’ as in monster.
Chapter 5: War Council
Notes:
I took some creative liberties with this one, so this may not exactly follow canon, but I thought it might be interesting to show what an actual discussion around the war table might look like. It was a fun writing excersise when I wrote it, and it worked to build a rapport between characters. Anyway, enjoy.
Chapter Text
Tinvaak Do Kein-Speak Of War [War Council]
Bri ate the remainder of her breakfast on the way to war council, shoving the last bit of food in her mouth at the top of the steps, wiping with a hankerchief before donning her gloves once more. She had kindly asked a scout to procure her advisers, though Josie wasn't hard to find. She took up residence in the office outside the entrance to the war room, and was already awake, though not bright eyed, nor bushy tailed, so to speak.
The woman hardly slept, and Bri could remember several nights staying up late at Haven, pouring over letters, inventory, or simply talking with the Ambassador, for they had much in common, though Josie was far more versed in finer points of Orlesian custom and tradition.
And there she was, ready to serve her newly appointed Inquisitor, pulling strands of hair back into her braids before the others saw her in dissaray. Leliana looked poised and collected as usual, and Cullen looked...well, like nothing at all. Nothing beyond his usual expressions or mannerisms, nothing out of the ordinary about him that morning. Though his eyes lingered on her a moment longer than they should have.
They rolled out a map, and spread it across a large table centering the room, blowing dust out of the way, and began placing markers on it, various locations of interest, Leliana's reported rift locations, and the most recent reports of Venatori. Their sudden newfound interest as they confirmed the identity of the woman leading the rebel mages against Haven, along with the Elder One.
Calpernia, a Venatori agent, reportedly their leader. Provided she had survived the onslought, as her body was not accounted for, the chaotic activity of her agents could be her doing, and the work of Corypheus.
Leliana had already taken the liberty of sending agents to locate Calpernia. Cullen informed he had sentries at the weakest points of the castle grounds, to compensate for the state it was in, and until they could get more supplies for more repairs. Josie of course dropped a letter on the table with the Ferelden royal seal.
"Signed and sealed by the King of Ferelden himself," she said morosely. "Mages are considered traitors of the crown, and fugitives once more, since they have allied with these Venatori and left Redcliffe in such political discord." Her lips pursed, obviously having poured over the contents first, and not pleased with what Alastair had to say. Bri read the letter for herself, pacing as she did so.
"He wants us to hunt them," she said out loud. "Every last former Circle mage, as they are now considered apostates to Ferelden. Our own allies discluded, of course. Since we have allied with the Templars, he believes Inquisition forces will be more than capable of handling them. He obviously hadn't learned of the attack at Haven when he wrote this, must've been shortly after they left."
She tossed the letter to the table once more. "He's not in a position to lend us soldiers, but he's commisioned us to handle it, personally, as we see fit. It feels like murder. No different than the rebellion." She continued to pace.
"They left us no choice when they allied with that...that thing," stated Cullen, gripping the handle of his sword in his unease.
"That may be so, but they may have had no choice either," Leliana amended. "Do you not think that Corypheus would have corrupted them in the same manner as the Order?" she asked him. He sighed, reluctant to agree. The Spymaster turned her attention to Bri. "Your Worship, if you're hesitant to act on the mages, perhaps time could be better spent researching further on reversing the effects of Red Lyrium. I have some ideas of where to start."
Bri nodded, accepting the information. Josephine then interjected.
"If we could procure evidence that the mages were also unwilling to ally with the Elder One, and were somehow tricked, it may amend the situation in Ferelden," the Antivan chimed in. "But we must do something. Since we've still yet to have full and complete support of the Chantry, our amnesty in Ferelden may be cut short if we do not cooperate with His Majesty. The writ of the Divine only goes so far."
Fair point. Bri couldn't argue.
"We will eventually need to secure a supply of Lyrium for our remaining Templar allies." she stated. "Would be good to know if it's possible that consuming regular Lyrium will eventually have the same effect as this corrupted version. Give me all you can on Red Lyrium then, and contact Sir Barris as well," she instructed. "And please, for love of the Maker, don't call me Your Worship. My name works just fine you know."
She ran a hand through her disheveled hair in nervousness as she paced.
"Well, you are the Inquisitor," reminded Cullen.
"Addressing me like that sounds...wrong. Too much emphasis on this purported rumor that I'm sent by the Maker, which we still don't know if it's true."
"It's believable," Cullen mumbled quietly, and Bri did her best to pretend she didn't hear it.
"Maybe just...'Inquisitor' in public," she shrugged. Then she turned back to the table, eyeing the map. "Their locations are chaotic, much like Corypheus himself. Either it's purposeful, possibly...Red Lyrium deposits I imagine, or they're simply trying to spread their influence as far and wide as they can. Much like us. We need order. Direction. We'll drive them west, scout here, here and there, when we have the manpower."
She pointed on the map, her advisers making note of the regions of Emprise Du Lion, the Emerald Graves, and the Exalted Plains that she fully intended to scout.
"In the meantime, Inquisitor, might I suggest we pour some of our efforts into maintainance here at Skyhold." Cullen suggested, and Bri nodded in agreement, briefly curious as to why he adressed her as Inquisitor after she just granted them permission to call her by her name. That was odd. "We have enough room for a sparring yard, as well as schematics for an infirmary," he added.
"Our claim to the keep is in legal standing, as of this morning," Josie confirmed after Cullen spoke. "And I believe Grey Warden treaties will also cover some supplies needed to rebuild. I can speak with Warden Blackwall."
"Oh I'm sure he'll look forward to that," Leliana smirked, and Josie blushed. "So, what has become of the Champion of Kirkwall?" she asked Bri.
"Interesting woman," Bri noted. "She believes the Wardens are being manipulated. They've been susceptible to Corypheus' corruption before, and Hawke believes in the likelihood of his influence as the reason for their dissapearance. She has a contact in Crestwood with more information. I daresay if her suspicions are correct, that could mean war against Grey Wardens, Leliana." Bri's tone was dire, matching her expression. "What news have you from the Imperial Court?"
"Nothing yet," she replied. "The assassination is merely a rumor at this point. Could be that we put a stop to it at Therinfal, but I doubt it. Killing the Empress of Orlais would cause chaos, and that's exactly what Corypheus wants. So far that's the game he plays."
"Might I suggest we continue looking into this matter," Josie remarked. "To aid the Empire will grant us the ability to negotiate amnesty within Orlais with little argument. An alliance we will need if we are to continue to crusade through their countryside." She raised a brow.
"Oh I agree," Leliana furthered. "Not to mention the bolster in numbers with Orlesian soldiers as allies. Perhaps I can use that angle." She rubbed her chin thought.
"Thank the Maker, soldiers I won't have to train." Cullen sighed a little in relief at the notion. Bri stifled a laugh. "Not...not that I can't properly train soldiers. But time is better spent elsewhere, you know," he shrugged, and the women in the room couldn't help but smile.
"Sounds like a plan then," Bri said to all of them. "I'm sure Dorian will have some insight into the Imperium as far as Venatori are concerned, and I hear he's interested in digging up some dirt on the Elder One." She gave a rueful smile. "And Varric has mentioned before that he has connections that are familiar with Red Lyrium studies," she added in a more serious tone. "I'll speak to them both." She nodded to them, and was just about to dismiss the meeting when Josie asked an impertinant question.
"I can't take it anymore. I must know, Brianna. Who in the world is this Alduin?" She set down her itinerary and folded her arms. "Where did you find him?"
"I believe that's something we all want to know," Leliana added. "You've never mentioned him before the attack. How exactly do you know him?"
Cullen said nothing, merely eyed her intently, gripping the hilt of his sword once more. She could tell he didn't like Alduin. Jealous perhaps? She'd have to amend this situation, as soon as possible. She couldn't have her Commander thinking he had to dual for her honor, or anything of the like. She sighed.
"In truth, it never mattered before. I had a million other things that were more important. I didn't think I would need him. But I suppose I was wrong." She stared at the floor. It wasn't a complete lie. Though she wondered if the gifted spy in the room could still see right through her.
"Well, he's nothing if he's not loyal to you," said Josie. "You should've heard the awful things he said he would do to someone if they touched you." She couldn't help but glance at Cullen for a brief moment as she spoke. She sensed a rivalry, same as Bri. "He's a little frightening to the others. Perhaps if we could adjust his wardrobe...to something that isn't black..." She mumbled the last part.
"I doubt that would change his behavior, Lady Montilyet," Cullen spat in haste. "He's rude, inconsiderate, hostile, and barely inhibits manners akin to a human at all. He's...monstrous," he admitted.
Both Leliana and Josie found his words amusing it seemed. But Bri only sighed yet again, feeling in contempt at the moment.
"He's not Andrastian, Cullen," she stated.
"So he's a heathen."
"He's a foreigner. He's not educated in our customs. It was never necessary. His purpose is to serve me. I've never expected anything else. He is loyal, dutiful, and he's my friend, above all else. Out of respect, he will do his best to get along with those who follow me. Other than that, don't expect him to be much of a gentleman."
She walked toward the door, then opened it, motioning for them to follow. She was done for the time being. They relented and exited the room as she held the door for them. She wasn't anything if she wasn't polite. Cullen was the last to leave, and she held him back for a moment.
"If...if I might speak with you later, in private, Commander?" she requested, and he nodded, though his face was still holding its grim expression.
"I'll be in the southern watchtower when you have the time," he said, then bowed respectfully, before leaving the room.
There would be no living with either man if she didn't fix whatever this was. If only she knew what it was, though. Officially, there was nothing between Bri and her Commander. But, there wasn't supposed to be anything between her and Alduin either.
So why did she feel so guilty? With both of them? Had more happened the night before that she had yet to remember? Had Sera said something? Or had Cullen somehow seen, or had been informed of her drinking with Alduin and took it the wrong way? Well, what was she to say? That she purposefully got him drunk to learn who he was, and ended up forgetting half the night, only remembering bits and pieces, mostly conversation in a completely foreign tongue and...wait.
Was it more than wanting to kiss the raven haired warrior? Had she actually done it? Color crept over her cheeks as she thought of such things, until she was surprised by a soldier brushing quickly past her in the main hall.
"You've got to see it!" he said excitedly to someone nearby. "Someone's challenged the Iron Bull! They're at it right now, you're going to miss it!" He waved to the other before quickly leaving the hall. By the Maker. Bri knew who it was. Without a doubt. And saw it first hand when she rushed out the door and stood gaping at the top of the steps. Alduin and Iron Bull, both shirtless, wrestling one another to the ground by the tavern.
She had to stop them.
Chapter 6: Still Your Pride
Chapter Text
Mulhaan Hin Kah-Still Your Pride
Bri raced down the steps of the keep to the courtyard, pushing past onlookers, too interested in the fight taking place to notice that they were blocking the way of their Inquisitor. A few soon noticed, however, and sheepishly moved out of her way.
"My money's on the big one!" said one soldier to another.
"Which one?!" the other asked. Bri pushed past the remainder of the crowd, suddenly feeling short and quite insignificant as she had tried peering over people, almost jumping up and down, completely livid by the time Bull and Alduin were in view.
"By the Maker, what are you doing?!" she shrieked at both of them, making them stop in their tracks. Some commanding leader she was, with her shrilly voice that was in no way firm or intimidating, but more the whails of a small child. Both men breathed heavily, sweat pouring off of them, even as chilly as it was in the morning air.
And my oh my, by Andraste's grace...if she thought Bull was impressive...Alduin was the living embodiment of human perfection. Standing rigid, as soon as she spoke, hands behind his back, and every muscle on display, with the exception of the white linen bandage over his gash. She gaped at him for a moment, forgetting what she meant to say, the feel of sudden color flooding her cheeks.
"We were just having a bit of fun, boss," said Bull, with a sheepish smile, a glint of humor in his good eye. "No harm done."
"A bit of fun?" she huffed. "It looked like you two were trying to kill each other!" she flailed in frustration. "Is there no way to smooth over your issues with one another without resorting to violence?!"
"Relax, Rosey," chuckled Varric behind her. "It's just a guy thing." She turned to see him grinning from ear to ear. She did her best to ignore it, feeling the eyes of more than a dozen people on her as she less than gracefully broke up the discord. She squared her shoulders.
"At the moment, I don't really care if it's a...'guy thing', Varric...You." She turned to Alduin. "You should be resting!" she barked. "If you injure yourself further, you're of no use to anyone, now are you?" Then she turned to Bull. "And you...Save it for the battlefield!" she instructed, before turning around to face the crowd behind her. "What are all of you still doing here?!" she snapped at the soldiers and commonfolk gawking at her. Blackwall was among the group, shaking his head as he approached.
"I had money on this, you know," he belted out with a bit of a laugh. "I suppose we'll never know who would win now, will we?" Bri rolled her eyes at that. "Ah, come on, love. These soldiers need something to clear their head of what happened at Haven. Perhaps it might do them some good. Something to take their minds off it all." He shrugged. And Bri hung her head abashedly. Blackwall was right. She couldn't argue with that.
"I am sorry," she said then, more to the rest of the people present than him specifically. "But now is not the time nor place for such things. We have other duties that take presedence," she stated firmly. "Everyone disperse!" she ordered. Blackwall sighed as he walked away.
"Everyone clear out! Back to your duties!" instructed the Seeker that approached, sword in one hand, oddly, a book in the other, as if she'd been lounging somewhere reading when the fight broke out.
She looked no more pleased by the affair than Bri herself, but she hid her frustration well, behind a calm gaze as she looked Alduin over. Bri could only wonder what she thought of the man. She said very little in that department, other than confirming what Bri already knew, that he saved her life. For that, Cassandra was grateful to be in his company, Bri supposed.
The crowd dispersed accordingly, Bull laughing a little, shaking his head and making his way back into the tavern, Blackwall heading back to the stables, absent of coin, Varric trying desperately to get a better look at the book in Cassandra's hand, snickering when she shooed him away, and soon it was only Bri and Alduin standing there in the courtyard.
"Krosis," said Alduin quietly as he approached, believe it or not, a rather bashful expression on his face. From what she remembered, 'krosis' meant 'apology', as he'd said it enough times the previous night, before either got too drunk to function in a sound manner.
"That is not necessary," she waved it off, her larger concern being the bandages that wrapped around Alduin's midrift. There didn't appear to be any blood, but still, it couldn't hurt to check. So she ignored Alduin's expression and instead strode over to the warrior and began inspecting his wound.
He grumbled something in his native tongue, and Bri rolled her eyes.
"Mulhaan hin kah," she spat, suddenly remembering what that meant, and with each passing second, remembering more of what happened the night before. Alduin stopped fidgeting, and allowed her to peel back the bandage, checking that her stitches still held up. If they didn't get more healing supplies soon, either he'd rip them open, or she'd kill him for his relentless attempts at doing so.
...Or, well, more likely make empty threats that she'd kill him, as not even the Herald of Andraste could slay a being who could breathe fire like a dragon, and make stars fall from the sky. Of that she was fairly certain, at least. Yet, the irony that such a powerful man could act like such a stubborn child over his injury.
"You should take my advice and rest," she told him. "You've earned that rest for what you have done for me. Maker only knows what peril will yet lie ahead of us all. We will all need to be at our best when the time comes, and that will include you." She looked up at him. "You are right, I will need you in the days to come. Your skills as a warrior alone are invaluable."
"Is that why you insist on fussing over my injury then?" he asked her. "Am I that valuable? Why not let someone else do it?"
She chuckled. "Someone else may not be as gentle as me."
"No one could be as gentle as you, thuri," he complimented, as she finished putting his bandage back in place. It made her blush, and then sigh, still confounded by the way he behaved around her.
"So will you rest then?" she asked him, and he nodded, surprisingly.
"I will. What you said is truth." Both started walking toward the keep, slowly, as to not jar his side, Bri clutching the soaked black tunic that belonged to him. "Though I'm dissapointed, a little, that you would stop me from fighting with the Iron Bull," he admitted. "I would've enjoyed watching him pry his horns out of the wall of the keep."
Bri snorted. "Are you so sure that you would win the fight?" she asked, keeping in mind his air of conceit. She heard him sigh.
"In truth, no. I am not," he admitted. "I have...lost battles before."
Bri chuckled. "Well, you can be humble, after all. I almost thought you not capable of it." She looked up at him. "Now, shall we find a room in this place that has a big enough bed for you? It will be quite a challenge," she grinned.
The spirit watched the events take place from afar, hiding in plain sight, invisible to those distracted by the commotion, sitting atop an outcrop of stone. He hid his expression under a wide brimmed hat, though it was not hard to notice how he shifted in his seat, disturbed by something. Curious as to the reason why, Solas silently sat down next to him to inquire of it, after the crowd had dispersed, and the Inquisitor entered the keep with her wounded pet.
"It didn't work," he said, responding to Solas before he asked his question. It made the elf smile a rueful smile, and yet, also fill to the brim with more confusion, and curiosity.
"What didn't work?" he asked Cole, who sighed, slumping his shoulders and hanging his head.
"I tried to help him, but it didn't work. He forgot my face, forgot me, and only remembered my words. But...then the Herald made him forget my words too," he said softly, though quite morosely. "I'll have to try something else, I think." He looked up, sharing with Solas the dissapointment plastered across his human looking face. "I can't tell you what you want to know," he said to him.
"And what is it that I want to know?" Solas leaned his head to the side, letting his eyes fall over the physical form of this troubled spirit.
"He confuses you...all of it...confuses you...How the stars fall from the sky, how you saw a dragon in the storm, how out of the ashes came the man in black," Cole stated, repeating the thoughts jumbled around in Solas' mind.
"Yes, it does vex me, friend," he admitted to the spirit. "I find the meaning of such things rather..."
"Bothersome," Cole finished. "But I cannot tell you."
"Cannot tell me what?" Solas asked. Cole sighed, looking up for a moment, past the elf, to the steps that led into the keep, the steps that Brianna and Alduin had taken minutes ago, after the bout between him and the Iron Bull had been broken up by the mild mannered Herald. Cole hung his head.
"I cannot tell you what he is, Solas," he answered. "The Herald can't tell you either. The Herald doesn't know. No point in asking...He lights a candle...where there's fire, there is light...no one knows..." Cole trailed off from the thoughts. "She wonders what he is."
"What he is?" Solas repeated, curious as to why Cole chose to say 'what', instead of 'who', wondering of the possibilities, for Cole did know the difference between each word. "Does this stranger in black that serves Brianna have a secret then?" he mused, bringing his hand to his chin, bewildered for a moment. "Is he a danger to her?" he asked.
Cole shook his head. "Dangerous...no, not dangerous to her. He wants to help her, needs to help her, he...doesn't know how to feel. And when he drank with the Herald, drank so much wine..." Cole's voice was filled with distress. "He forgot what he was meant to ask her," he admitted. "I can't understand his pain, Solas...it's...not like the kind other people have, it's...different."
"What is Alduin's secret, Cole?" Solas asked, furrowing his brow, leaning in close to the spirit, speaking quietly, directly. Cole looked at him, his gaze suddenly quite sad, filled with...pity. Yes, that's what it was. Pity.
"Everyone has secrets," Cole answered. "The Herald, her friends, her family, everyone here has secrets too, Solas....everyone. Even you."
At those words, Cole dissapeared, unwilling to communicate further on the subject. Perhaps it was best to leave him be. He had a point. Everyone had secrets. But Solas desperately needed to know Alduin's, particularly needed to know how it would effect everything already set in motion. And now it seemed evident he was on his own as far as figuring out 'Alduin's secret', he supposed, as obviously Cole thought he was helping somehow by keeping it. He wondered just what sort of secret it could be.
...For the remainder of that day, Solas chose to bide his time by painting in the keep, away from soldiers and servants that flitted about. Patiently waiting for nightfall, when all would be quiet and still, and Solas could gather for himself 'what', exactly, Alduin was, in the blissful, and tranquil silence, the peace brought by dreaming, and through dreaming, entering a land beyond where what Thedosians called 'reality' did not bind him.
Beyond the restraints of this world, and into a land where the elf was at home, and at peace. Through the magic of the Fade. A dream of a time when the Veil was merely an idea. It was there that this man in black named Alduin would never be able to hold 'secrets' from the wolf that would sniff them out.
The room they entered was a large one. The largest yet, aside from the main hall itself. Inside it was a bed, and a few lounging chairs, nestled by an unlit fireplace. Balcony doors swung wide open, letting in the cool breeze that floated over the frozen mountains one could see, looking out of the stained glass. Alduin let his gaze pour over the room, absentmindedly assessing its fortifcation, contemplating suggesting to the Herald that she have steel bars put over the windows and doors, before walking out onto the balcony and looking down.
No, nothing could get up there, he was certain, save for a dragon, which could undoubtedly swoop in, land on the balcony, and set the room ablaze, quite easily. Better than steel bars, perhaps she should have steel doors put in place. The sound of the Herald's voice interrupted his thoughts.
"I suppose this will work," she said from behind him, and he turned around to see that she too inspected the large room. "You can rest here. I'll make sure to inform Herrit that you're here, so that he can send up your armor when it's repaired." She made eye contact with him, and he leaned his head, studying her for a moment.
"This is the master's room, Qolaas," he stated. "This room is meant to be yours. Not mine, thuri."
She sighed. "It can't hurt," she chuckled a little. "Though I suppose if you won't sleep here, I'll get the soldiers. Surely they would be far more comfortable in here than outside in tents. Imagine..." She looked around, holding out her arms as she twirled in place, soaking in the magnitude of the chamber. "...Just how many wounded soldiers we could fit in here. At least forty or more." She lofted a brow as she spoke. "What in Thedas would I do with such a big room all by myself?"
Alduin shook his head in disbelief.
"To think that the one I must serve is a vahdin who would give up her chamber for her servants," he stated, making Brii laugh again.
"Do you never smile?" she asked him, drawing his attention once more from where he stared at the fireplace.
"Smile?" he countered, walking over to the ashen pit. "I was not aware that I didn't."
He blew wisps of flame into the pit, admiring for a moment how easy it was to light the flecks of kindling stuffed inside, and slowly piled logs ontop of them from the grate that sat nearby. Behind him, Brii groaned, for whatever reason he was not aware of, but she came to stand beside him infront of the fire, after closing the balcony doors, keeping the heat inside, rubbing her shoulders as she watched the flames dance.
"So, were you a dragon slayer?" she asked then, filling the silence between them that lingered. "Your armor, I assume it's made from dragon scales. And you certainly seem to know quite a bit about dragons in your land, that you can even breathe fire like they do. So, is it that you slayed dragons, then? Perhaps in...Akavir? Where you are from? I find myself very intrigued by it. And Nirn. I want to know more about it."
Alduin soaked in her words. She wanted, so very much, to know who he really was. Otherwise, she would not ask such questions, he imagined. He did not want to lie to her, though he had been content to let her gather her own conclusions. It seemed he must bend the truth for the time being, if he was forced to answer her. Truthfully, he highly doubted there was more he could tell her that he hadn't let slip already...A dragon slayer? Abhorrant of a thought for one such as the World-Eater.
"Did you not learn enough from me the night before?" he asked. "Or will you continue to pry information from me in such a way? When you could simply...command me to tell you." He looked down at her, watching her face wrinkle up in anger.
"You can't simply talk to me?" she countered. "Simply make conversation? I have to get you drunk to get you to share anything with me?" She turned away from him for a moment, and yet again he could see the waves of red hair that cascaded down her back, distracting him from whatever thought that had previously been. Why was he so fascinated with her hair?
"What is the point in discussing things that do not matter?" he asked. "I thought you wanted me to rest, not make simple tinvaak, Herald," he said, and she huffed as she turned around. She was an interesting sort of creature when she was disturbed. Her green eyes shown brighter, her cheeks flooded with color that almost matched her hair. Alduin would be lying if he couldn't admit that he found irratating her to be quite entertaining. She palmed her face, smearing her hand across, before gesturing to the bed behind her.
"Rest, then," she instructed. "But I assure you, we will speak later," she said, in a more commanding tone, and he nodded in understanding. He watched as she walked toward the stairs, clenching her fists the whole way across the floor.
"I refuse to bark orders at you, just to get you to do my bidding, Alduin. You are a man, not a dog, but-" she spoke aloud, though his words interrupted her.
"It interests me to hear you speak my tongue. The way it sounds," he said, his voice a low rumble in his throat, purring in contentment. "Perhaps I will teach you my language after all."
She let out a breath through her nose, pausing before making her way downstairs.
"Su'um ahrk morah," he said, and she turned around. "Breath and focus," he repeated in the mortal tongue. She leaned her head to the side. "Dragons tend to not waste words, thuri, but if we must speak of trivial things, we can do so in my tongue, if you wish. Su'um arhk morah," he said again. "Breath and focus...Drem. Have 'patience'."
"Su'um ahrk morah," she repeated quietly, her expression changing. She let out a sigh, nodding her head, as if recieving the message given, and made her way down the steps that led out of the room.
If anyone could have patience with him, perhaps it was her, as he did struggle over his purpose to her, and needed time to learn to 'still his pride', he supposed. Let go of the habits that had piled over millenia, let go of what it meant to be a dragon. The first dragon, firstborn, the first shard broken from the Aka. A trying task that would be, as much of a challenge for the Herald, as his own challenge, to endure this mortal body.
But there she was. The calm within the storm, the peace found in the spring, after harsh snowfall. Suddenly, a small thing crept over Alduin's features, and he lifted the corner of his mouth, though as to why, he'd yet to know. For just a moment, in the company of the Herald, and then alone, thinking of her and her confusing nature...for just one small moment, so small it was almost insignificant to his notice, standing there...Alduin found peace. The devourer of the world...content.
Until he turned to see a looking glass nearby, and saw within it the face staring back at him...In that moment, the tranquility was shattered, just like the glass of the mirror, shattered by his fist in disgust. The face...the face that resembled the one plaguing his dreams. To Alduin's horror, he saw the face of the dragonslayer staring back at him.
Instead of anything remotely familiar, anything of himself, he saw the Dragonborn.
Chapter Text
Mun Uv Dovah-Man Or Dragon
Josie was waiting for Bri when she exited the quarters she stashed Alduin within, and the Antivan was almost bubbling over with curiosty. As there were couriers and servants within earshot, of course she was respectful, relenting all the expected pleasantries and formalities, addressing Bri as 'Inquisitor', when asking for a moment of her time in private, leading her to the war room to speak.
But the moment they were inside the room and the door was closed, Josie relaxed and almost squealed, dying to know anything Bri would tell her about Alduin.
"Where is he from? What's he like?" she asked excitedly, leaning against the table behind them. Bri bit her lip a little in thought, trying to think of what to tell her, though, Josie didn't make it too hard for her, mostly gathering her own conclusions of the man. "He's very tall, and handsome, I must say," Josie giggled playfully. "Though he's absolutely terrifying. Maker...The way he sulks about with that frown on his face. Is it perminant?"
Bri chuckled. "For the most part, yes," she admitted. "He is...different, isn't he?"
Josie nodded. "But he is so very protective of you, Brianna. Has he always been that way around you?"
"Yes, I'm afraid so," Bri let out a sigh. At least that was no lie. From what she could tell, insofar, he was protective of her since the moment they met, standing between her and Corypheus, then sweeping her off her feet before the whole mountain above Haven came crumbling down on top of them.
"Does...your father know about him, Bri?" Josie asked then, and in turn, the Herald chewed on her lip.
"No, he doesn't," she admitted. "He would never approve of my being in such company, honestly." Finally, some real truth in the conversation, and she didn't have to feel guilty, letting Josie know this information. He truly never would approve of someone so dangerous, and irrefutable as Alduin. Even if he was sent to protect her, not harm her.
"So that's why neither of you will contact him," Josie speculated, raising a brow. "Surely you don't want your father to worry of you, do you? Surely now you see the sense in writing to him...If you'd just let me-"
"Josie," Bri chided. "If my father was that worried, or even cared that much, don't you think he would've inquired of my well-being after learning of the explosion at the Conclave?"
Both women frowned at that statement, seeing the logic in it. No, Lord Trevelyan never tried to contact the Inquisition to inquire of her.
Only a few annoying cousins looking to gain political favor.
But not Bann Trevelyan himself.
"It is true that Lord Trevelyan does have his hands full with delegations in the Free Marches, but...To think that he would not try at all to contact his only child...I am so sorry, Bri." Josie relented this with pity in her eyes. Then she sighed. "So...Alduin...why has he never learned proper Thedosian customs? You said it was never necessary, but clearly it is, if he should be with us now, at Skyhold."
"I plan to teach him, though, like Cullen said, I don't think it will effect his personality," Bri chuckled a little. "He...doesn't know how to be normal because he's not normal. Like...other people," she stated, assuming this as truth about him. "Honestly, he has more in common with dragons than he does humans."
"With that I agree," Josie folded her arms, tilting her head.
Bri shrugged, then she lied a little. "He's slain them before," she explained, and this sentance sparked curiosity on Josie's part. "Studied them as well. He'd rarely been in the company of other people, before he met me. Mostly dragons. He speaks to them. In part, he's more apart of dragonkind than mankind." Well, from what she could tell, it was only partly a lie, mostly because she didn't know for sure. Alduin never directly said so. She mostly guessed at that.
"He speaks to dragons?" Josie raised a brow. "I was never aware that such a thing was possible."
"He has a way with them. I've seen it," Bri lied, yet again, though she had seen him breathe fire like one.
"Some sort of magic? You've really seen him commune with a dragon?" the Antivan smirked, not quite ready to believe such an erronious statement. Bri chuckled.
"I've seen him do a lot of things," she spoke. Maybe not that but... "He's very capable. And very strong." She sighed. "That's why he's come. Because I'm not strong enough to do this on my own," she admitted, in disgust of herself, being weak and useless without him, apparently.
"Oh you cannot have such little faith in yourself, Bri," Josie encouraged. "Surely you know as well as the rest of us what you are capable of. You are the Herald of Andraste, are you not?" she smiled.
"I'd like to think so," Bri leaned her head to the side, staring at a spot on the carpet, tracing the lines with her eyes.
But her failure at Haven loomed ever present in her thoughts.
"I'd like to think it possible that all of this was the Maker's design. That all of it happened for a reason. But...I don't know what that reason is." She glanced over at her friend. "It's not like Andraste speaks to me, or speaks through me, or the Maker came down and booted me through the door, so to speak. All I have is this mark on my hand, my faith to go on. Without the Anchor, I'm useless, Josie," she admitted.
"Not completely useless," Josie corrected. "You do have exceptional penmanship." she chuckled.
"My word, Lady Montilyet, was that a joke I just heard?" Bri giggled, poking Josie in the side. She didn't know the Ambassador to be capable of such quips. The Antivan batted away her hand, then stood up, straightening the folds of her skirt, lacing her arms together.
"You are a selfless individual, Bri. You put others before yourself, and you try to do the right thing, no matter the consequences. Not everyone will always agree with your decisions, but they see how much you care about this world, and everyone in it. Do not let your minor shortcomings make you doubt yourself."
"I-I'll try not to," Bri responded to Josie's compelling words, hardly knowing what else to say to that. The diplomat certainly had a way with making others feel ten feet taller when she wanted to.
"Well then," she said. "I've taken up enough of your time, I think. And we have much work to do, you know. When do you plan to embark for Crestwood?" she asked.
"In a few days," Bri replied. "Dennet should be here by tomorrow with his horses, and will hopefully have some medical supplies I might use. Alduin's injury is still a hinderance, I'm afraid."
"So you plan to take him with you?" Josie asked, and Bri nodded. "How does the Commander feel about that?"
Bri simply gaped at her for a second or two.
"Oh come now, Brianna. Surely you see the Commander's feelings for you. Leliana's told me numerous times how no one at Haven could miss the two of you conversing with one another any chance recieved. And surely now, with Alduin among us, it...complicates things."
"What do you mean?" Bri asked, pretending she didn't have the faintest idea of what Josephine was talking about, to which the diplomat rolled her eyes, in much the same fashion as Bri did too often.
"You cannot tell me there is nothing between you and this Alduin, Bri. I see the way he looks at you as well. The way he speaks of you, even...Perhaps it would be wise to sort this out, before the Commander frets too much, thinking that this servant of yours is more than just that. After all, is Alduin not currently in your quarters, as we speak? Hmm?"
"Oh come now, Josie. It's the only room with a big enough bed for him to rest on. The man's wounded..." Bri rolled her eyes. "I'm leading the Inquisition now. I doubt I'll have time for romance. And what of you?" she jabbed. "Surely you're not too busy to notice the Warden's affections."
"What?" Josie blushed again. "I...No, I had not, actually."
"You do know that he was the one leaving flowers on your desk at Haven, don't you?" Bri smiled. "Bet there will be more here at Skyhold, mysteriously turning up out of the blue. Perhaps you'd better set that man straight before he keels over. And I...apparently need to do the same," she sighed.
...Well, if Brianna Trevelyan wasn't convinced before, she was now, that she needed to quickly wipe up this spill before it dripped over. If Josephine Montilyet, who never noticed anything beyond court intrigue and gossip about the Inquisition's noble supporters, and couldn't even notice how Blackwall fawned over her, noticed something between Bri and Alduin, then perhaps there really was something to be troubled about.
A thought, of which gave her good cause to immediately head to the southern watchtower when she concluded her conversation with Josie.
Cullen was inside, to no surprise, leaning over a desk, reading the latest reports recieved. As soon as she opened the door, he popped up, standing rigid, at full attention, like any dutiful soldier. This was...terribly peculiar behavior for him. At Haven, he was usually more relaxed in private, and around her, not the other way around. Something was clearly bothering him, just as much as something now bothered her.
"Inquisitor," he addressed, once again, refraining from using her name. Perhaps he was simply taking that title to heart, and meant it as a show of his loyalty, and faith in her as their leader. That he was taking her seriously. But it was making things worse. For now, at that present moment, as she stood in the doorway, then slowly entered his office, she felt like there was a big space between them.
Before, they were just too busy to talk, but now it felt foreign. She was Inquisitor now, not just an agent of the Inquisition. As if people believing she was the Herald of Andraste wasn't big enough, now, this time, there was a whole chain of command between her and Cullen, professionally speaking. Though, truth be told, it wasn't any better or worse than a dragonslayer sent by the Maker to serve her, with 'unwavering loyalty'.
It seemed that both men were at this very same empasse with her.
"Do you have a moment to talk, Commander?" she asked, attempting to mask the strain in her voice due to nervousness. He nodded, and gestured to the door to the right of his office, that led out onto the battlements.
"I'm glad you asked to speak with me, Your Worship," Cullen said, after a rather drawn out moment of awkward silence as they strolled along the ramparts of the keep. "I uh..." He rubbed his neck, "...have some words of my own I'd like to share."
"I'm listening," Bri said tentatively, hoping this would not be a lecture, or an argument. Su'um ahrk morah, Bri, she thought to herself, breathing out through her nose to calm her nerves. Breath and focus, right?...Probably a metaphor. Life was full of them. But the phrase sounded nice. Paticularly when Alduin said it. He gave it depth. He sounded so-
"Well, I...owe you an apology," Cullen started. "My words, this morning, were...rather harsh. I was being foolish. I cannot let my personal feelings cloud my judgement, and that's exactly what I did." Personal feelings? Toward her? Or..."I have not forgotten that without Alduin, we would not have you with us. He saved your life, he protected you...and...what I said about him..." Cullen sighed. "I am sorry that I was not charging out there with you at Haven. I should have been. You should never have gone alone. Then perhaps you never would've been in danger."
"Cullen," Bri sighed, realizing what the man was trying to say. "You did what you had to do. You got the others to safety." Then she smiled a little. "Don't forget, it was my stupid idea to go out alone after that dragon. I knew what I was getting into when I did that, and I knew the risk. I don't regret it." Well, it was sort of the truth. Sort of.
"I realize." Cullen smiled a little sheepishly, just for a brief moment before his face grew solemn once more. "You will not be alone next time, Inquisitor," he assured her.
He was such a handsome man. Tall, broad shouldered, and filled out that armor so well. He had such a nice smile. Short, wavy hair, the sort that any woman would love to run their fingers through...warm amber eyes that one could get lost in. In fact, that was exactly what was happening to her right now. She was getting lost, standing there, silently staring up at him, trying to figure out what to say to this man, feeling nothing but a lump in her throat.
Waiting for him to tell her how he felt about her, if he would. Funny, how she was so overly opinionated with the frightening man in black, so comfortable with him, yet, Cullen felt like a complete stranger at the moment. The brief silence was rather awkward. She didn't like awkward.
"But if I may give you a piece of advice, Brianna." He folded his arms, breaking the silence, eyeing her with a calm and steady gaze for a moment. "Don't let your affair with him, or whatever it is, interfere with your role as Inquisitor. At the end of the day, we must all remember where our duties are. Perhaps he should be reminded this as well." The Commander raised an incredulous brow.
Wait, what?
Well, that was a curve she hadn't expected. So...everything he just said had nothing to do with their budding relationship, and everything to do with his duty as her Commander...and Alduin? Maker's breath. Did he actually have any feelings for her? Or was this his way of saying he was 'politely stepping aside'? Or...was he simply too dense to notice that she'd been relentlessly flirting with him since they met? Or too distracted?
"Yes, well, um..." she cleared her throat, and stared at her boot. It was then that Cullen actually laughed a little.
"You didn't think I could tell, did you?" he asked, shaking his head a little, then staring at the sky for a moment. "How lost and lonely you've been since first thrust into all of this. Just confused to all end. I know the feeling." He shrugged. "...Then, suddenly, he waltzes back into your life, and now you're a new person, Brianna. Well, except for right now. With that same look on your face you've had since you fell out of a rift and right into the Inquisition."
He smirked. She huffed a little.
"You mean the one that says 'I have no idea what I'm doing, but I'm excellent at pretending'?" she smiled, surprisingly feeling a bit less awkward, now that Cullen spoke his mind.
"The very same," Cullen confirmed. "But my question is this...Why now? Why is he here? And where did he go? Where has he been all this time?" He let out a sigh. "Forgive me. I'm prying into your personal affairs."
"No. It's quite alright," Bri amended. "You have every right to be concerned with the welfare of your Inquisitor, Commander...Honestly, I...don't know what to say about him. It's...complicated. But, I'm figuring it out. And no matter what, the Inquisition will come first." She ended her words with a reassuring nod.
"Good," he said to her. "You...said you had something you wanted to discuss with me as well? And here I've been assuming most of the conversation. Apologies."
Brianna Trevelyan couldn't for the life of her remember what she was going to say. The precise way she intended to word it, that he had nothing to fear, that her bond with Alduin was merely necessity, that it was pleutonic, that there was nothing more between them than that...But hadn't she lied enough for one day?
Standing there, in front of Cullen Rutherford, she felt absolutely nothing. Nothing but a warm breeze on her face blowing in from the south, one she cherished, as it was so cold up there in the mountains. But when she was standing there, next to Alduin...she felt something else. Something she couldn't name. Something she had no word for. And in that moment, lying about something being between her and Alduin didn't really feel like a lie.
There must have more truth to it than even she realized.
"It...sounds so stupid now," she said, answering Cullen's question. "But, I only wanted to apologize to you, Commander. I feel I owe you one as well."
"You owe me no such thing, Inquisitor," Cullen assured her. "This...has been very hard on everyone. Haven, the Elder One, rebel mages turning on everyone, not just the Chantry, but allying with that monster, and the Venatori. The threat we face ahead. And we ask a lot from you. But...I think the Inquisition is in good hands, Brianna. You've been more than just a good agent, you've been a good friend." He smiled.
"I appreciate that. You have been too, you know." Bri smiled a little back at him. Of course, maybe he was only saying all of that because he didn't know the extent of how helpless she felt? Regardless, it was nice to hear. And a bit of a relief.
...Why in Andraste's name did she not simply tell Cullen what she meant to tell him? Or shut him up by leaping into his arms and planting a kiss right on him then and there to reassure him? Why did she just further convince the man she was in a relationship with the frightening, dangerous, and rather pragmatic dragon slayer that rescued her?
The whole way back to the keep, she had to fight the urge to smack herself in the forehead. Of course, it didn't help that all that had been between them was a little banter, nothing serious, and Maker only knew what these people thought happened between her and Alduin, and...
Maker's breath. He was in the Inquisitor's quarters. Did it matter if he was only there to rest and recuperate, keep his stitches from ripping until more healing potions could be obtained?
No, it didn't. Not to the nosey, gossiping people of Skyhold. But at least Cullen wasn't outrightly chastising her for leading him on, getting his hopes up, when...Wait a minute. She really did like Alduin, didn't she?
Was the lie actually the truth?
Notes:
Inquisitors and their feelings, am I right?
Chapter 8: How To Feel Pain
Chapter Text
Wah Haalvut Faaz-[How] To Feel Pain
Alduin stared at the blood dripping from his hand where he'd smashed the face that stared back at him through the looking glass.
Nordic blood. He knew the smell of it.
Alduin had Nordic blood running through his veins.
One last time he spared a glance at the face staring back at him, before turning away in disgust, feeling like he'd vomit, just from looking at his own reflection.
His own reflection.
He hadn't just been cursed in a human form.
He'd been cursed to look like the Dragonborn.
Feeling his heart quicken in his chest, he tore away from the bloodied broken glass and stared into the fire.
The flames danced, while spitting and crackling embers were the tune that played along. Music to Alduin's ears, and a needed distraction. The fire roared in the pit as he sat on a chair in front of it, elbows on his knees, watching it burn away the chunks of wood. At times, fire was the only thing that ever truly made sense to a dragon. No fickle mortal words, no emotion, no complication. Simplicity.
That everything burns. Everything tranforms. Everything changes.
What was once a great city, a marvel of a dying age, could be a pile of ash within minutes. What was once a thriving kingdom, powerful, magnificent, white stone to blend with the equally crystalline flecks of snow, the pinnicle of mortals...was blackened, broken. Ruin. What was once a mammoth, a beast so collossal in size, almost rivaling a firewyrm's wide girth, could then be nothing more than a charred remnant of the impressive being it was.
Dead. As everything dies. But not a dragon. Never a dragon. The immortal soul of a dragon stood outside Time, against the test of it, immune to decay. Immune to death, unwavering. To be a dragon was to be a God.
Alduin had been a God.
There he had been, the dark haired warrior, releasing his battlecry in defiance to Alduin's own powerful words. The cry heard as the warrior lunged forward, his armor, made of the scales and hide of Alduin's own kin, worn as if on display, an act of deference that curdled the World-Eater's blood. His sword, lashing out, flecks of sweat and spit spraying the air as the two gnashed at one another. The music...the music in his ears...the flames...
They fluttered in the fireplace as if a breeze rushed by them just then.
"Why did you hurt the mirror?" a voice asked, making Alduin turn his gaze from the ripple of flames within the fireplace.
It was a boy who spoke. A boy, hiding under a large hat, in tattered clothing, a look of concern on his face. The boy, whose melancholy eyes hid behind long sweeps of blonde hair, reached out to touch the glass, gently, as if it would disturb the fragil sheet that was already marred. The damage already done, and Alduin's human blood still dripped from the broken shards.
"Why would you hurt it?" the boy asked again. "When the mirror wasn't the one who hurt you. It was the man on the other side that did. He killed you. And it still hurts inside. You see yourself dying every time you close your eyes."
He recognized that face. He was sure of it. He didn't know why, but he could have sworn he'd met this boy before.
"I made you forget me," the boy said, as if answering a question Alduin didn't ask. "Everyone forgets me when I help them. They don't want to remember, so I don't make them. But...I couldn't help you. It's...hard to understand your pain. You've never been in pain before. You don't understand it either, and it hurts you, not knowing why you feel all of it inside."
"Who are you?" Alduin asked, slowly rising from his seat by the fire to stare at the boy, utterly confused by his appearance in the room altogether. Where did he come from? And how long had he been standing there, watching Alduin? How did he know of these things?
The boy turned to look at him.
"Cole," he said. "I'm Cole. The Herald says I'm her friend, just like Varric does. I like her. She doesn't look at me like the others do. But...she doesn't forget me either. It's hard to help her like I help the others. I think the Anchor tells her who I am, to remind her. You like her too because her hair looks like fire, and dragons like fire."
The boy curled his lip upward a little in favor of this notion, finding it humorous, perhaps.
"You're very...odd," Alduin stated bluntly, wrinkling up his face, looking the boy over, from top to bottom.
"So are you. The inside doesn't match the outside. It's...odd."
Cole turned to face him. Then he abruptly turned away again, to stare at his own reflection in the broken mirror.
"They cursed you with his face...You will be one with the body you sought to claim...They said that, and it makes you angry that they gave you his face, that they took away your body, broke it apart...Bones break, wings melt away, weak flesh, weak body, skull split open, a bear's ugly claws, I can bleed, I can die...They made you human. To feel their pain, feel everything they feel. But you don't know how. You don't know where to start."
Now Alduin was most certain he'd had this conversation before. If not this one, than a similar one. In the tavern, perhaps? How, by the Aka, did this boy named Cole know of such things? An oracle? A mind reader? Or had the Aedra somehow spoken through him?
"What are you?" Alduin asked, growing irratated at this boy, clenching his fists, but the boy only hung his head.
"Someone like you," he said, continuing to stare into the glass, as if he also did not believe in the face looking back at him. Touching the mirror as if he were touching a person on the other side. "We look like them, we sound like them. But...we're not them, are we?" he asked quietly. "That's what they tell me, anyway. But you? You're...not not them."
"Not who?" Alduin asked.
"People," Cole said. "We're the 'not people'. Sort of. We're...human, but...we don't know how to be human, right? That's why I can't help. Because I don't know either. That's how I know."
And then it dawned on him. That phrase. The voice in his head. The voice he'd heard the night before, and then the following morning, the one he could not name the source of, as drinking with Brii garbled his memory, making it nothing more than a fog in his mind. The boy that could 'hear a person's pain'. That explained everything. The boy was afraid of him, so he cleansed Alduin's memory of the boy ever being there?
"Is that your way of saying you only look like a mortal, but your spirit isn't so? Like mine?" Alduin asked him.
"Yes. And no. I'm not human, but I'm not a dragon either. I don't think. I untangle all the knots, but other knots get tighter when people see me looking at them. So I dissappear."
"Wait. Let me see if I have this right. You...poke and prod the minds of others, and make them forget it when they notice you there?" The boy nodded.
"I make them forget I was there, but they don't forget how I helped. I hear the hurt, the pain is loudest. I make it quiet again."
"Why not simply tell me all of this last we spoke?" The dragon sighed. "Don't answer that. I'm certain I already know. This tinvaak makes my head ache."
"You remember," Cole said, then shrugged. "Maybe you're not meant to forget. People in this world are afraid. Afraid of people like me. But you...you're not afraid of anything are you? You're not even afraid of dying...and everyone's afraid of dying. But you can't be afraid. No. Because you already died. You already know."
Alduin bit his tongue and turned away from Cole, looking at the fire once more. No longer seeing cities burn within the dance of flames, but instead seeing a flurry of fiery hair, belonging to the Herald, then the force of the Dovahkiin's fiery Thu'um, for just a moment, before the vision was gone, and he blinked.
"You see them in the fire, and remember them. It hurts to remember. But if you forgot, then you would forget why you're here."
Alduin gritted his teeth at those words.
"So, I'm meant to learn what it means to be human," Alduin speculated, changing the subject. "How to...feel human emotions. And it all starts...with something dragons have no word for?" he asked, folding his arms.
"It's...I think it's the touch you cannot name," Cole said, which wasn't very helpful in making Alduin understand what that thing was supposed to be. The boy's eyes darted to his. "Maybe it's a smile. You don't know what a smile is. It's that thing the Herald does with her mouth that you like so much. That's smiling. Maybe...maybe that might help?"
Alduin sighed. "My thanks to you, that I now know such things," he spoke dryly, through tense jaw and teeth. Although if he were being honest, it did lessen some confusion over a few minor things. Smiling. Hmm.
"The Herald can help." Cole brightened, 'smiling' a little at the corner of his mouth. "She's human. She knows how to be one, because she is one. You need to ask her. Ask her how she feels. Then maybe you can learn how you're meant to feel."
"I think that may be the most intelligent thing I've heard you say so far," Alduin remarked, rubbing his chin, glaring intently at the boy still occupying the room, unnerving him with how much he knew of the thoughts reeling inside his head.
"Oh. Well, maybe I should have said that first," Cole said, with absolutely no sarcasm, but as if he'd had an epiphany. "Should...should I try to make you forget me? Then we can start over, and I can say that instead?"
Alduin shook his head. "Gods no. Please don't. It didn't work the first time. Might only make things worse."
"You're right. It didn't work." The boy shook his head. "Well, I don't want to anyway. I like talking to you. It's like talking to the Herald. It helps. You're sort of the same. But she's nice, and you're angry...She's the calm within the storm, the peace found in spring, the water to fire...She's opposite...but the same. She said I don't always have to make people forget me. Sometimes, I can help them by asking how they feel, and listening to the words. Talking to them. Like we are now. Like...like people do. She said it helps too, and I don't have to be alone. I don't have to be invisible."
"Is it that important to you? To keep from being 'invisible'? Alone?" Alduin asked. "You don't want to be forgotten?" Cole nodded. "Why?"
"Because no one wants to be forgotten. Well, no one here. So if I want to be real, be like them, maybe...maybe I shouldn't be forgotten?" Cole shrugged. "Something like that. I don't know. It's easier when people just forget me. But...it is lonely."
"You need wine much more than I do, boy," said Alduin, shaking his head.
"But...what if I made myself forget me?" Cole asked, his voice raising in alarm.
Alduin smeared his hand across his face. Sucking in a deep breath, trying with all the concentrated power he possessed to not char this boy to bits. Nothing in this conversation made sense. Whereas he could not understand her reasons, per say, as it wasn't as if Alduin could read minds - a power he would die for at the moment - At least he could understand the words that fell from Brii's lips.
This, however, was utter nonsense. Confusing, and made his skull tighten in his head. He'd ask the Herald if he could kill this boy, but he already knew the answer. He let out a long and deep seated sigh. He...didn't really want to kill Cole all that much anyway.
"I can't talk to her. I've been instructed to rest," he said.
"But you don't want to sleep, because of what you see when you close your eyes," Cole remarked. Again, Alduin sighed.
"No, you're right, I don't," he admitted. "Regardless, I must stay here, and she's out there. Perhaps...you can fetch her, and then...I can ask her," he reluctantly suggested, inwardly groaning at the notion.
Inquiring of the Herald in regards to her emotions? What did it matter what she felt, or he? When it was already difficult enough to make her understand he was meant to do her bidding. He'd just assume stay there in that room and never come out, if he didn't have to.
"I can," Cole said to him. "I can tell her. And then she can help."
Alduin turned his gaze back to the fire for a moment, clenching his fist, before groaning out loud. "I don't understand why..."
As he spoke, he turned back to see the boy was already gone. No where in the room. As if he'd never been there at all, and it was nothing more than a dream, or a vision that he'd ever been there. Though, at least this time, Alduin was quite certain he remembered him. He certainly remembered the odd conversation. And the boy...What was he, truly?
He sat back down in front of the fire, slowly easing himself onto the chair, careful not to upset his injury, lest he cause the Herald to be frantic once more over it. In the fire he could see her hair still, the dragonfire it resembled.
The flames mimicing the way it flowed like the waves of an ocean, dancing with the push and pull of the tide. Of all the things that caught his attention in era past...nothing bewildered him quite so much like her hair. That he should even notice it. That he could remember every detail of her face, every line, every crease, every subtle color. So odd. So strange, how suddenly, he was quite curious.
How, exactly, did she feel?
Lost...alone...like she isn't worthy...
Bri managed to find the unattended garden she heard tell of the keep possessing. She had some seedlings on her person, and saw fit to spend part of the afternoon gardening, weeding out the neglected trellises and lattice work left behind by the previous owners, procuring pots from a storage room. It may not help them much at the moment, but in the long run, the healers would make good use of the herbs that would spring up in a few weeks time.
Bri was suddenly grateful she possessed some botanical skills, passed down from her mother, and was content to work in the quiet yard, disturbed only momentarily by Mother Giselle, offering kind words, and a bit of praise as an herbalist. Content to reminisce on the few good memories of her childhood. Until she heard the familiar little click and pop, barely audible noises, but ones that meant Cole had been watching, and apparated beside her as she knelt in front of a planter.
"Have you been staying out of trouble? Or getting into it?" she asked with a smile as she pressed seeds into the planter, then brushed the dirt from her fingers.
"Out, I think? I'm still not sure what would get me in or out of trouble. No one's told me how to open it," he shrugged. Bri chuckled.
"Hurting someone might get you into trouble I suppose," Bri shrugged, leaning back on her haunches. "Hurting someone who doesn't want to be hurt. I understand sometimes pain is necessary. To learn from it. To grow. It's part of being human. Some pain is natural. But some pain is not."
"Pain...The man in black is in pain," he said quietly, making her eyes dart to his. He meant Alduin, didn't he? Had his wound come open again? She was about to haul herself to her feet and take off running when Cole shook his head. "Not that kind of pain," he corrected himself. Bri let out a sigh of relief. "The cut that doesn't bleed, the kind under the skin."
"Alduin's in some sort of...emotional pain?" she asked, wrinkling her brow. "Oh...you mean his feelings are hurt. What...what did you do? What happened?"
Cole slumped down on the ground beside her, sitting crosslegged, hanging his head. "I tried to help him. But it didn't work," he said. "He doesn't forget me either. But I think you're supposed to help him, and that's why he's here."
Bri chuckled a little, moving to sit beside him. "Wait a minute. I thought it was the other way around. I thought he was supposed to help me?"
"He is," Cole agreed, nodding his head. "But you have to tell him how you feel. You can't help him if you don't. He can't help you if you don't. If you tell him, it will fix everything...I think." He scratched his head. "He's...it's hard to understand, because he doesn't understand. But...I think I understand now."
"Well, that would make one of us," Bri noted. "So...I'm supposed to tell him how I feel?...Maker's breath. I...don't actually know how to word it at the moment...Like I don't belong, really. Like I'm not worthy of all of this, and no one will understand what I'm going through. Do you really think he will? He doesn't seem to so far, Cole. I don't think he knows anything about Thedas, or the Inquisition. All he knows is that he was sent to serve me. Because I'm weak. I'm still afraid, Cole."
Very deeply afraid, now that so much more was at stake.
Cole fiddled with a piece of grass for a moment, folding it inside his hand, then unfolding it, fidgeting as stared at the grass, holding it up to the light.
"He's not afraid," he said then. "Maybe he was sent to teach you how to not be afraid." He shrugged. "He's angry. And he's hurt. Screams come out of eyes, because the mouth is closed, so no one hears. They trickle down the broken glass. The man on the other side hurt him really bad. Maybe you can show him how to not hurt any more. Tell him how you feel, and he'll understand."
Bri lifted a single brow at the string of words that fell from the spirit's tongue. The bit about the 'man on the other side', well, she had no idea what that meant but...She let out a sigh. "Alright then," she gave in. "I'll tell him...You...you really think it will help?"
"It can't hurt," Cole shrugged, making Bri snort a little and nod. "Do you know how to grow plums?" he asked then, out of nowhere.
She chuckled. "No, I don't. But I'm guessing you need them for something that will help someone?" Cole nodded. "Well, maybe I can get some when I leave for Crestwood." She patted his shoulder. "Thank you, Cole. If I haven't said that already. Thank you, for all you have done."
Cole smiled a fleeting, shy, and rather childish little smile, before a noise could be heard from somewhere. One of the servants passing through the courtyard and into the keep. When Bri looked back at the spot where Cole sat, it was empty, and Bri chuckled a little.
So, it was telling Alduin how she felt was it?...And perhaps, he would do the same? And perhaps explain to her just what happened to cause whatever emotional pain he felt? Well, that explained why he never smiled. He was a broken individual. And perhaps Cole was right, that he needed her the same as she him. It was an interesting thought at least.
One she could entertain in her mind for the time being.
Being needed by someone did feel pretty good.
Chapter 9: Finding Balance
Chapter Text
Siiv Ro-Finding Balance
Night settled on Skyhold like a cold shroud over a warm body, blanketing the sky with stars.
Its inhabitants headed for bed, some to tents, some to makeshift quarters within the keep, and Brianna Trevelyan made her way to the Master's chamber. Odd, that such a title was given to the main quarters of the keep. Master. She shuddered at that. But Alduin made a point. She was the leader of the Inquisition. That room was meant for her, whether she liked it or not.
She pushed open the wooden door with grace and ease, ascending the winding staircase, to find the tall individual with raven hair, not lying on the bed, but sitting on a cushioned couch, pulled in front of the fireplace. Elbows on his knees, long, surprisingly elegant fingers laced together, leaning forward, staring intently at the fire. A dragon slayer, possibly, taught the language of dragons, who breathed fire, somehow.
Oddly, it made sense for him to have such a fascination with fire. He said her hair looked like dragonfire. Was that why he liked it so?
She noticed the mirror. Shattered, busted at the center, roughly the size of a fist, with a small tendril of blood that trailed downward and dried. Frozen in place.
"What...what did you do to the mirror?" she asked, inadvertantly startling him, as she approached the marred looking-glass, reaching out with a free hand to touch it.
They trickle down the broken glass...The man on the other side...
Oh. Now she understood.
"That was...I...krosis," Alduin sighed apologetically, rising from his spot on the chair.
Well, suddenly what Cole said made sense. The man on the other side of the mirror hurt him. Well, the man on the other side was him. He'd done something, hadn't he? Something that left him with guilt, regret perhaps. Self hatred, undoubtedly. Whatever it was, it caused him emotional pain, and he didn't know how to talk about it? Didn't know how to open up?
Well, he sort of needed to, if she were ever to trust him, however.
"It's alright," she said to him. "It's just a piece of glass...You have trouble sleeping, don't you? Bad dreams?"
"Yes," he said.
"Well that would certainly explain why you fight with my instructing you to rest. You could've just told me." She bit her lip. "I'm sorry. That sounds...um...Well, I understand," she relented. "I can't sleep either most nights. And lately it seems there are only more and more things to worry about, keeping me awake. But with you around, I...I feel..."
Why was this so hard? Why couldn't she just tell him what was on her mind? How hard was it to say, 'Alduin, I barely know you, but I think I like you, and this confuses me, because I may have been sent by the Maker to right the world, and you may have been sent to aid me in doing so, but you're confusing, and intimidating, and I'm the leader of the Inquisition, so this may or may not be appropriate.'
It was much easier to confess her feelings of weakness, and incompetence than it was to admit such a thing.
But it certainly was strange to admit such a thing, when she barely knew anything about him.
"You feel what?" he asked, stepping closer to her. "How do you feel?"
She let out a gust of air through her nose, staring at herself in the mirror.
"I...I like you Alduin," she admitted. "I don't know why, but for some reason, I find it easier to tell you what's on my mind than some of the others here. Perhaps because you saw me at my weakest. Cowering before Corypheus like a child. You saw the real me, rather by accident. You didn't judge me for it. You saved me. It...well, it makes me feel, well, something. I don't know what, but...something. Something along the lines of trust, maybe?"
"I like you as well, thuri," she heard him say. "To me, you are the miin ko faal strun. The 'eye within the storm'."
"Miin ko faal strun. I like that." She smiled a little. "I'm glad that my presence is reassuring to you."
"It is," he said, without delay, no hint of sarcasm.
Pure and simple honesty.
Her heart hammered.
"So is yours," she admitted, and waited half a heartbeat for a response, but none came.
She glanced his way to see that blank expression of his, but something gleaming in those white eyes. Understanding, perhaps.
"I can't bear to look at myself either, you know," she said as she turned away from the mirror. "All I see when I look in the mirror is a coward. And I feel..." She sighed a little. "I feel so lost. Like I'm not worthy of this title. I can't bring myself to be what these people expect me to be. I can't...I'm no hero, Alduin. I'm not Marian Hawke, and I never will be. If I was really chosen by the Maker to lead these people, I have no idea why."
"I don't know either," Alduin admitted with a shrug. "I can't claim to know the burdens of heroes. But you are one, to these people, Brii. The one called Varric told me you went out to face the sunvaar's dragon by yourself. He believes that to be a brave thing. But you see yourself as a coward? Ahkrin ahrk kril los ni ronit."
"What does that mean?" she asked.
"Courage and bravery are two different things, thuri," he replied. "You're not what you think you are. Far from it."
"So Varric thinks I'm brave, huh?" she asked, instead of commenting on that last bit, and Alduin nodded. Well, wasn't that nice of the dwarf.
"Yes, well, brave or couragous, neither fit me," she denied. "Facing the Archdemon singlehandedly just makes me an idiot." She moved to flop down at the desk, twiddling her thumbs. "I don't know, maybe...maybe the heroes in fairytales are merely idiots themselves. They just get called heroes because they managed to survive whatever stupid thing they did. Luck. Not bravery."
"You could be right," Alduin shrugged, making Bri snort a little.
She couldn't read his expression, but of course, it was always the same expression. A frown. A blank, empty, emotionless frown. He...he had trouble expressing his feelings to anyone, right? Well, he did say he liked her too. Perhaps this whole thing was new for him. Actually conveying feelings to another human being. A prideful warrior, not prone to sharing weakness, whereas she...well, she opened right up to him.
The same, yet different, they were. He leaned over the desk as she slouched behind it, feeling very foolish. But at least she wasn't alone.
"How do you feel, Alduin? About all of this? Being sent here to me?" she asked, and he simply stared at her for a moment, as if debating on an answer. "You said you had a choice. You still do. You should have a say in the matter, you know."
"I...don't know how to feel," he said.
"Well, I think I can understand that. Most days, I don't know how to feel either." She smiled a little. Alduin continued to stare. "So, it seems we have that in common, I suppose. Perhaps that's why you were sent to me. Because...perhaps, we have some things in common? Not everything, but...I find it hard to relinquish pride, same as you, it gets the better of is every day, and evidently I'm just as stubborn as you. Perhaps, we're fit for one another's company."
"Perhaps," he said quietly. "What is that?" he pointed to the book she clutched in the crook of her arm. She'd almost forgotten about it.
"This? Well, I found it in the library. I figured it would be good for you to learn some of the history of Thedas, some of its culture. It couldn't hurt, anyway." She rose to her feet, and reached out to hand him the book. "It's just some things about the Chantry, mostly. Religion in Thedas."
He took it in his hand and stared at the cover for a moment before slowly opening it, and then he poured over the pages. His face was an interesting expression. His eyes flitted over the words on the page and his eyebrows furrowed, lips drawn into a thin line. It was rather handsome on him, to see him concentrate, but then he looked back up at her after a moment.
"I cannot read it," he said, snapping the book closed.
She blinked. "You...you can't?" He shook his head.
"I can read my native tongue, but I cannot read this. These markings do not make sense to me...I never cared to learn much of other cultures," he added, his voice empty and hallow. He couldn't even read? Maker, that was...well, that was certainly interesting. But he spoke the common tongue so well. She hadn't expected this at all. But it was better late than never that he learn.
"Oh. Well, if you like, I could read it to you," she offered, and he nodded.
He didn't seem too embarrassed by the fact that he couldn't read, but perhaps he was, and Bri simply couldn't tell by his grim expression. He was hard to decipher. But in that moment, as she bade him to sit on the couch, and she sat down next to him, the way he seemed so...uncertain, perhaps even shy, about being in such close proximity to her, it was rather endearing, and perhaps she misunderstood him from the start.
And perhaps she'd been correct afterall to say he'd never spent much time around other humans. He wasn't frightening just then, just tentative. But slowly he relaxed, as did she, as she cracked open the book and began to read aloud. He followed along with his eyes, so she scooted closer so he could see.
She didn't remember at what point she fell asleep while reading, or at what point he did as well, but she remembered her dreams. They were nothing like the nightmarish visions of a dragon reigning fire from the heavens, not at first, but they were equally as strange.
She was standing in a field, surrounded by mist, so thick and suffocating, turning everything to grey, and music could be heard from some far off place. Chanting, it appeared to be, strong masculine voices regailing a song of glory and triumph, in a language she did not understand, and the sound seemed to flow right through her.
She wandered through the dense brush of this curious field, trying to find the source of the sound, until she came upon a clearing, the fog dissipating, just as thunder echoed through the strange valley. The sky above was so unreal. A mixture of otherworldly colors, and it was moving in a cyclone pattern, gradually condensing at the center, of which a blinding light shown through. Ahead of her, locked in battle, was a man and a dragon.
Just like her previous dreams, there was a miraculous cry to be heard from somewhere, and then stars fell from the heavens. The great black dragon roared in agony as the dragon slayer pierced its hide, ramming his sword into the belly of the beast, pushing in, than upward, to find its heart. The scream that left the dragon's mouth was so loud, so terrible, it hurt Bri's ears to hear it, and she clapped her hands over them.
The ground shook, knocking her off her feet, and when she lifted her head, she could swear to have seen the dragon break apart, splinter off into pieces. The dragon slayer still stood there, sweating, raggedly breathing, exhausted from battling with his foe, blood and gore dripping from his armor, horned helmet gleaming in the strange light that emanated from the heavens, and then he looked up.
It was Alduin.
Alduin, for the second time, woke up alone, sitting upright uncomfortably on the seat in front of the extinguished fire. The book Brii had been reading to him was still next to him on the couch, but Brii herself was gone. Some of what she read he retained in his memory, but most of it was clouded over the distinct tingling sensation brought by being in such close proximity to her.
The touch I cannot name.
He had no idea what time of day it was, and didn't particularly care. Judging by the pale light that poured through the intricately designed stained glass windows it was early morning. Light, but the sun had yet to rise. He lazily rubbed sleep from his eyes as a familiar voice called up the steps, then heavy footsteps made the scaffling in the stairwell groan under their weight. It was Herrit, coming to deliver Alduin's armor in person.
He also clutched a small glass vial in his hand, filled with red liquid that Alduin recognized. Some sort of healing potion, similar to the one Brii fed him. Herrit was gleaming at the fact that a horsemaster had arrived that morning, and they managed to get their hands on some medicinal supplies.
Most of which were given to the wounded soldiers, those that still lived, and somehow, by a miracle, had survived the onslought brought by Corypheus and his dragon, the blacksmith said. But also that the Inquisitor requested that whatever could be spared be given to Alduin, to ensure that his wound healed properly.
"Might want to take them stitches out first, before you take it," Herrit suggested as Alduin clutched the small vile in his hand. "Oh, and before I forget."
He raised a finger as if an idea had struck him, then went over to the trunk in which sat Alduin's armor and sword. From the box he procured a helmet, and Alduin felt faint just looking at it. The Aedra in Aetherius were certainly laughing at him now, perhaps even Daedra too.
"Had some left over materials, and I figured this would suit nicely with the armor," he said, with a...smile, as he held out the helmet to him.
Through clenched teeth, Alduin murmered a 'thank you', and took the helmet in his hand. Made from the same material Herrit used to repair his armor, from the look of it. Eerie, how it look like it belonged to the set, belonged to him. The horns atop the black helmet...looked like his. How poetic. It was all he could do to keep from hurling it at a window.
When Herrit left the room, he angrily ripped the stitches out of his side with one of the daggers he had made, then gnashed at the cork on the potion bottle, ripping it out with his teeth, then forcing down the vile tasting liquid. It was interesting to watch the wound close completely and leave behind nothing more than a thin white scar, the only evidence he'd been injured in the first place.
The discomfort finally stopped, and he could stand and stretch his limbs with no trouble at all. Donning his armor was no longer a trying task, and the first thing that came to mind was trying once more to scrap with the Iron Bull, now that his injury was no more.
Then...smiling, at the thought of watching Bull pry his horns from the stone wall of the keep. He strapped his sword to his back with ease, but then stared at the helmet. It was meant as a gift, a show of appreciation from Herrit for rescuing their leader, he supposed, but he despised it. A further reminder of the form he no longer possessed. Begrudgingly he snatched it up, tucking the two daggers into his belt, and exited the room with newfound ardor.
Breakfast wasn't hard to find, and neither was Brii. He watched from afar for a time as she stood beside the stables, now stocked with an assortment of beasts, engaging in conversation with a man Alduin had yet to meet. Presumably the horsemaster Herrit spoke of. Dennit.
She talked with him for a time before heading left of the stables, to an unoccupied corner of the yard, where she began relentlessly socking arrows into a tree. Failing miserably. He'd never seen a warrior struggle over a tool of the trade so much as she. She growled in her frustration before turning around, freezing in place when she noticed Alduin standing there, watching her struggle. Then she slowly examined him.
"My word, you don't just look like a dragon slayer, you look like a dragon." She smiled a little. No, he didn't. But oh the irony of her statement. This armor and helmet was but a pale comparison to his rightful form, but the way she said it, it was meant as a compliment, he was certain.
She sighed, then turned to march over to the tree and pry her arrows from the mud in front of it.
"I'm no good as an archer," she mumbled. True.
Her cheeks were as red as her hair as she moved to sit on the enclosed reservoir nearby, and set her bow and quiver down beside her. Alduin folded his arms and stared at her, watching her pick at her gloves.
"I'm to leave for Crestwood in a few days time to meet Hawke, and a Warden that supposedly has information that might help us. But Crestwood is mostlikely wrought with danger. I've heard nothing good from the scouts we sent up north. I want you to come with me, when you're able. You're a much better fighter than me. Like you said, I'll need you, won't I?" She looked up, her eyes giving away her frustration at lack of skill.
He pulled back his cloak, and reached to extract the daggers on his person, tucked in his belt, then laid them down beside her. She stared at them for a moment, before furrowing her brow.
"Is this your way of saying you agree? That I'm absolutely dreadful as an archer?" She sighed. "I thought perhaps a sword and shield would be a wise option, at least a shield would protect me, but... Daggers? I'll be eviscerated weilding such a weapon."
She folded her arms...pouting like a...like a...well, a child. Alduin rolled his eyes, then swiped one of the daggers, hurling it at the tree. The sound it made was a quick thwack, and Brii leaned back in surprise at the gesture, watching flecks of bark flutter and then fall to the ground nearby.
"That is not a weapon," he grunted at her. "That is a tool."
He drew the large and magnificent sword from his back and stamped it down into the ground between them, making her jump a little. It wavered when he removed his hand, but it stayed in place, and the eyes of the dragon that decorated it twinkled in the early morning sun that peeked from behind the castle spires.
"A knife in the hands of a cook is a tool for cooking...But a knife in the hands of an assassin becomes a tool for killing," he stated. "This is a tool, not a weapon." He eyed Brii's reaction for a moment, then asked, "What decorates the hilt of this sword?"
She rolled her eyes. "A dragon," she said, folding her arms. "Is this some sort of-"
"A dragon does not wield a sword," he interrupted, running a hand along the jagged edges of the scales as he spoke. "A dragon is the sword...it's teeth, it's talons are the tools it uses...it's tail lashes out at enemies, becomes the whip that strikes. It's breath, it's very soul, is fire, and with it a dragon decimates all it seeks to claim. It needs no shield, as its scales are as impenitrible as steel. It needs no bow and arrows to fire. No magical staff. A dragon needs no weapon. For a dragon is the weapon. And so must you be."
His eyes darted to hers, as she had been watching him while he spoke, entranced by his words, but then she sighed, rising to her feet and slowly making her way toward him.
"I cannot teach you to breathe fire, Dremsevah, but I believe I can help in other ways," he said, lip curling in a small smile.
She snorted.
"I don't understand how this is-" she began to say, when he snatched her arm, yanking her forward a little. Her footing was terrible, and she nearly fell, so he gripped her shoulder to steady her, then nudged her foot with his, encouraging her to keep her feet farther apart.
"Ro," he said. "Balance. In both your mind and body." He held her arm up, tapping her elbow, indicating how lax her arm was. Then he placed the other dagger in her hand. "This is the tool, but your body must be the weapon," he said to her. "You cannot fight like a human?...Then fight like a dragon. Find your balance."
She let out a groan, rolling her eyes once more.
"I was a noble, Alduin. I was never taught to fight. I can't-"
"You can learn, vahdin. And I can teach you. Drem. Have patience."
"I still don't see where any of this will help me. I'm not a dragon, Alduin." She ripped off her glove with her teeth. "Do you see claws?!" she exclaimed. Angered. Angered by her lack of skill obviously, and also her lack of understanding.
"That's what the dagger is for," he spat, grabbing her hand. "Whereas you have no claws, the dagger becomes the tool. But you must not only slash with it, you must move with it."
With one hand he still clutched hers, and as he pulled her arm forward, he pressed his other against her back, shifting her entire body with the movement.
"Treat it like a part of you, as a dragon's breath is it's very life's essence. Su'um ahrk morah. Breath and focus. It is how a dragon breathes fire, how a warrior finds their stength. Concentrate. Fight with not the tool in your hand, but your spirit, and you will find control. You confuse your gentle nature for weakness, do you not? You would not take the life of another, nor put yourself in danger, because you enjoy it...But you would in order to protect these people? Use that. Focus on it. And you will not find any part of yourself lacking. It is not anger or pride that will fuel your fire, but drem. Peace. Peace is not weakness, is it, thuri?"
She swallowed just then, and stared up at him with wide eyes. She didn't look like she was afraid of him, but nonetheless bothered by him for some reason. And then he realized why, for he was bothered as well. His face was very close to hers, too close, so close he could smell her skin and her hair.
This was not appropriate, was it?
He righted himself, standing up straight, letting go of her hand, and removing his from the small of her back. Then he laced his hands behind his back to avoid touching her again, confused as to why he suddenly wanted to. He cleared his throat, swallowing the lump that formed in it. Perhaps teaching her himself was a terrible idea. Especially if he felt this way whenever he neared her.
But who among them had Alduin's knowledge?
"Lose the bow, and use the blades," he muttered, then turned to hastily leave, needing a moment to collect himself, snatching his sword from the dirt. They could continue this later, once Alduin found breath again.
"There's a fallacy in your teaching method," Brii finally said, making him stop and turn around. "If I have no shield, what's to stop another from gutting me with their own blade?" She folded her arms and leaned her head, expectant of an answer. "Corypheus has mages at his disposal. What am I to do if someone comes at me with magic?"
"Get out of the way," he answered plainly, then left her presence in the courtyard, hearing her snort behind him.
Why was his heart racing so violently in his chest?
Chapter 10: Arrogant
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Pahlok-Arrogant
Bri had no idea what she was getting into, did she?
She found his method, and his behavior, very strange, but she couldn't lie. Some of what he said made sense. She simply expected the bow to do all the work, didn't she? Instead of treating it like an extention of herself. Well, for the most part, that was how she'd been fighting. Hanging back, letting the others press on the enemy in a forward fight, while she stayed in the rear.
A bow was a range weapon...tool...and therefore she felt safer with it, knowing she didn't need to be at an arm's length, or in harm's way just to use it. Safe, as she clung to the side, and didn't attempt to hit an enemy head on. But of course, she couldn't hit an enemy at all. She couldn't even hit the broadside of a barn. And boy had she tried, almost hitting Blackwall with an arrow in doing so. Thank the Maker he was too busy to notice.
But she was small, and fairly quick, and the daggers she held in her hands felt perfectly weighted for someone of her size. Light weight, perfectly sharp edges. She imagined she could slice open that thick dragon armor of Alduin's, as sharp as those daggers were. Interesting how they looked more like they were meant for him though. The hilts, though not as embellished as the sword, were black, meaning he didn't tell Herrit they were for her.
He kept it their little secret then, respected her fear of others seeing her as weak, and a tiny smile crept across her face at that thoughtfulness.
So, as long as she could keep from getting hit with something, she'd actually be able to fight? This was going to end badly, wasn't it? Well, maybe not that bad. Maybe that was what Alduin was for. If she got in way over her head, there he would come to her rescue and scorch the person with his fire breath, behead them with his sword...And if they became outnumbered...make the stars fall.
She did realize something, however. Everything that came out of his mouth was a metaphor. A very intrinsic, yet confusing, metaphor. Not as confusing as Cole, but bewildering.
Perhaps the entirety of the Dragon Tongue was a metaphor for something or other. She didn't know what, but it was an interesting thought. That wherever he was from, dragons spoke in metaphors, so therefore so did Alduin. So she couldn't really take anything he said at face value, could she? She had to rethink it all, and look at it from a different light. From the point of view of a dragon's?
But Alduin's soliloquy had a message behind it. She had to find peace. If she couldn't make peace with herself, who she was, what she stood for, she would never accomplish anything. If she couldn't accept her faults, she'd never find her strengths.
The way he made her feel, it was...exciting. But nerve wracking. He said she was the 'eye of the storm' to him. Making her feel as if though everything around them was a storm of confusion, she was the air of reason. (Perhaps that in of itself was their dynamic. Bri the logical thinker, and Alduin the poet who spoke in riddles.) He did say he liked her as well, though perhaps he struggled with the meaning of it same as she.
He didn't know what to do with it, evident by the way he quickly straightened himself, cleared his throat, and suddenly looked embarrassed, when he'd held her around the waist, physically moving her closer to him to demonstrate to use her whole body while fighting, and treat the dagger as an extension of her own arm. Fleeing in discomfort after. Fighting an attraction to her, perhaps.
Her heart fluttered in her chest, and what honestly felt like butterflies swarmed the lining of her stomach, when he touched her. He'd been so close to her. But then he straightened, as if the unwarranted contact was highly innapropriate, though they were no closer than they would be if they were dancing. Maybe it was innapropriate to him. After all, he was sent to serve her, correct? Not covort with her.
He didn't think it was a good idea to become romantically involved with her. That much was apparent. And remembering her conversation with Cullen, maybe it wasn't a good idea
The next few days were not spent idly.
There was much to do before leaving for Crestwood, and no time to sit idle. Now that Alduin's injury was healed, he was able to make himself useful to the people of Skyhold, with such things as assisting Dennet, as well as Herrit, she learned, as he was strong enough to lift heavy things that they couldn't. So rather than fight with Bull, like he very much wanted to, he and Bull were able to provide manual labor needed for some of the repairs made to the keep.
It was interesting to the people of Skyhold that there was a human among them with near the physical equal of a Qunari, and some asked her if he was Avvar, but by then, she'd dismissed the idea.
Though when she asked if all the people in his homeland were as big as him, he did say yes, explaining to her that the race of human beings he belonged to were called bron. Where he lived they were tall, and broad, and able to withstand the cold and snow. 'Nordic', he said they were called.
They lived in the most northern parts of the land, and were primarily a warrior society. It was 'their nature', he said. Though she found it interesting how he spoke of them as if he weren't apart of them. Maybe because of his connection to dragons, his time spent among them, he didn't see himself as part of humanity any more than she did. But the whole conversation had her intrigued.
That there were human beings somewhere beyond Thedas that thrived as a society.
Bri didn't sit idly by in any way either. Though she was no mage, and therefore had no magical healing abilities, Alduin was right, she was a born healer in nature, thus made use of her time assisting the healers while her advisers carried out their duties and made preperations for her travel. She saved her practice with daggers for when the infirmary wasnt swarmed with patients.
While Leliana sent her scouts to report on activities, Josephine assessed inventory, and Cullen trained soldiers, Bri assisted with cleaning wounds and replacing bandages, occasionally placing a fresh rag on a feverish individual's forehead. She mended curtains, mended clothing, putting her fine sewing skills to use. She prepaired herbs and tonics, prepared food, helped the servants clean the keep and organize supplies.
Anything and everything she could. Though some about the keep questioned the idea of their Inquisitor stooping to such a level as doing housework, most didn't seem to mind at all, welcoming the help. But though Brianna Trevelyan was the leader of the Inquisition, she was also an extra pair of hands that were very much needed. She much preferred cleaning to what she was about to face.
Delving into uncharted territory, pursuing Marian Hawke's lead on the disappearance of the Wardens. Blackwall, having been seperated from the Order for so long, had no advice he could give her on the matter. It would be dangerous, she was sure, and she fully intented on going with her gut, and bringing Alduin with her.
Bri also felt secure in the idea of Solas and Cole joining them, though Alduin did not. He said he didn't like Solas, didn't he? Something about not liking the way he smelled? Whatever that meant. And as for Cole, well, Cole confused him, he said. But when she explained to him that they were the only two that knew the truth, that she never knew Alduin before he found her at Haven, he relented, and made no argument to them accompanying her and Alduin.
It was interesting how he got saddled with the big black brute he was riding. And rather fitting. Dennit said he had some trouble breaking it in, but it was the only horse big enough for Alduin to ride, and the only one that wasn't frightened of him. The other mounts bucked and whinnied at the sight of him, shying to the back of the stable. But not the big black one. The black brute decided he was a rival, and tried to kill him, damned near.
But after Alduin whispered something to it, 'kaan drem ov', very quietly, the beast was tranquil. She had no idea what he did, but apperently he spoke to more than just dragons. The two came to an understanding at some point, to her relief.
For the most part, the journey to Crestwood was rather somber. Solas and Alduin did not speak to one another, for whatever reason. They were down and out of the mountains, in the basin, where the weather was much warmer, when Bri allowed Cole and Solas to travel ahead a little, and hung back so that she could converse with Alduin.
"The boy, what is he?" he asked after a minute or two of silence, while Bri gathered words. She smiled a little.
"You can tell he's not human, can't you?" she asked. "Honestly, Solas is the better person to ask of him. He understands the spiritual realm far more than I do." She glanced over at Alduin, who gave her an expression denouncing amusement at the idea of 'sharing tinvaak' with Solas, as he called it.
She sighed at the face he made.
"Essentially, he's a spirit. One that's existed in this realm for quite some time. For whatever reason, he marquerades as a boy, perhaps because his true form is a little descernable to people. He...frightens them, I think. But it's not him you should worry about. It's demons."
Alduin leaned his head to the side at her words, but said nothing.
"He's very compassionate in nature," she continued. "He can sense a person's pain, and feels compelled to ease suffering because of it. Most of the time it's physical suffering he senses. But sometimes it's emotional, or spiritual suffering. He's drawn to a person's pain like moths to a flame. And uses that ability to...help, more or less."
"And is that why you like his company? Because you do the same?" Alduin asked these, and it made Bri wrinkle her brow in thought. "You are a healer. You ease suffering. You are the Dremsevah, the peace that comes in the spring, after harsh snowfall. It makes sense that you are drawn to someone in likeness of yourself. You seek to ease the suffering of your people. Do you also suffer, in ways that Cole seeks to ease, desires to help?"
"Well, no, I...I don't know, actually," she shrugged. "I've never known Cole to use his powers on me like that. Though, he did keep an envy demon from possessing me when we met. But, he can read my mind sometimes, though. Can't manipulate my thoughts like he does others, as far as I know. The Anchor prohibits it. But...I've never suffered anyway, really. Never wanted for anything, not like that. But do I feel empathy? Of course.
So of course I understand that part of Cole. It is disturbing, to all end, to think what would happen if I don't succeed in stopping whatever Corypheus has planned. It keeps me awake, makes me nervous as hell. It's the reason I hide my fears. It helps the others, keeps them strong to see me that way. Gives them hope, and they need hope. What happened at Haven? I highly doubt Corypheus will stop there. He couldn't succeed in taking the Anchor from me, but no doubt he will try to cause chaos in some other form, and find another way to reopen the Breach."
Alduin contemplated that for a moment, but then shrugged. "I don't think he'll come back," he said. "If he does? Mey. A fool he is to do so. I'm right here waiting for him." Then he...well, he actually smiled. Well, jeered, really. A rather evil looking smile, and by the grace of Andraste, she hadn't been dreaming. He actually had fangs? No wonder he didn't smile. She laughed a little nervously. Maker, she was glad this man was on her side.
"That's very arrogant of you, to think that," she goaded. "But...it makes me feel better to hear it," she admitted. "Gives me a bit of hope. So...what about you? Do you...do you suffer doubts? Have problems Cole wishes to solve? The mirror you broke...Whatever you've done in the past to make you feel that way, you can tell me. You have not judged me for my misgivings, and I won't judge you either. Everyone has a past. Whatever happened, I'll understand. You know, it might actually help to open up. It did for me."
Alduin halted his steed to a dead stop, and glared at her, retaining his usual grim, borderline complacent, facial expression.
"I'm sorry," she said, rearing her own horse to a stop. "I didn't mean to pry."
"Whatever I did in the past...I make up for by serving you," he said, then clicked his tongue to urge the brute to move again, unwilling to say more.
This would take some time, wouldn't it? Well, at least what he said made sense. Making up for past wrongs? Well, what could they be? She desperately wanted to know but...for some reason it didn't feel right to force him to tell her. And she certainly wasn't going to order him to tell her. Whatever it was, it was his business, she supposed. But she couldn't help but wonder.
Alduin understood one thing from conversing with Brii. A found kinship within her company. A likeness to her.
He didn't know how to feel, and neither did she at times. Perhaps he was more human than he thought. She stated that she struggled over relenting her truth, that she 'felt weak and helpless' to the others that followed her, but not with him. He liked that, for some reason. Liked that she trusted him. She gifted him, and only him with her true self. Part of him reveled in that secret. But he struggled to do the same without revealing who and what he truly was.
A devourer. The World-Eater, he was called by Man and Mer. Created to destroy Mundus. And his arrogance destroyed him. Though, she didn't seem to mind his arrogance. His confidence in his own strength. She liked his power. Only that he would not reveal to her what caused him pain, all the things Cole had said to him. His truth. But it was no easy task.
Though the fact that in some ways, they could speak more freely with one another, more than anyone else, it made him feel...feel what? What mortal word did he search for, but could not name?
It was easier to teach her his tongue, gift her with the knowledge he'd amassed over the ages. She was entertained by his stories of Nirn, in era past, though she said she didn't really believe them. That they were 'too fantastical to believe'. It did not make them any less the truth, however, and some truth was better than none. But the language of Dov, his language, his natural tongue, she was most fascinated by, she said.
The road to this place called Crestwood was a long one, so most of the day was spent slowly, bit by bit, word by word, teaching it to her. Patiently. Most patiently. It would be yet easier for him to simply gift her with the knowledge of his language as Paarthurnax gifted the Dragonborn with Words of Power, but he couldn't bring himself to.
He despised that one of his own kind had done this to destroy him, and as Cole had said, it caused him pain. It haunted him still. So he chose patience instead. And, admittedly, he was interested by how Brii pieced together his language. The questions she asked.
"Drem means peace. And patience?" she commented. "So grammatically...restraint of some kind, I'm assuming?"
He nodded. "To withhold from one's true nature, and in doing so, to find ro, to find balance within oneself. To a dragon, it means to refrain from their base desire, to destroy. To be at peace, of which is not natural to them."
He leaned back against the tree stump behind him, imagining that if Paarthurnax were lurking somewhere nearby he would be gloating. That Alduin would be so humbled as to teach a mortal his tongue.
But he cared little for what his brethren thought of this, for he wasn't a dragon anymore, was he? More akin now to the Dovahkiin, in so many unsettling ways. Perhaps, for that reason, it wouldn't be a lie to call himself a dragon slayer. After all, in a way, he had slain a dragon. Himself. And when Brii spoke his language, he enjoyed the sound of it. It gave him the feeling he could not name.
They were camped for the time being, resting the horses, next to a river, and while Solaas wandered off somewhere, Cole sat nearby, listening to them speak. Knowing what he was, and imagining the boy understood no more of what it meant to be human than Alduin did, it didn't disturb the dragon much. He could not begrudge the 'spirit' a chance to learn, perhaps understand.
Brii was content to sit beside him, legs folded under her, unfortunately braiding her hair instead of letting it fall.
"A dragon's first language is fire," he explained. "As natural to them as mortals find words to be. Yol, fire, is their tongue. The mortal tongue, words, they are not natural to them. It does not flow as easily. So what 'drem' is to a dragon, may not be what 'peace' is to mankind."
"It's metaphorical," Brii remarked. "Nothing literal or 'word for word', I'm assuming." Alduin nodded at this. "So each word has it's own meaning to a dragon, and a seperate one to humans?...That must take a lot of work to have a conversation with one then," she chuckled.
"It is motmahus. Difficult, and hard to grasp," he relented. And she had no idea just how difficult it truly was. "But Bromjunaar was not built in a day," he shrugged.
"Brom-bromenar?"
"Bromjunaar. An ancient labyrinthian structure built by mortals that worshipped dragons."
"Worshipped?"
"Aye, worshipped. Perhaps rightly so. Dragons know not the passing of time in the mortal sense. They are beyond it."
"You have a lot of respect for them," she said. "For dragons," she clarified. "That says a lot about you. That you should revere your enemy in such a way, if you are, indeed, a dragon slayer."
He looked over at her just in time to see her smile. So did he.
"The Iron Bull tells me that it is a great honor among his people to challenge a dragon," he remarked. "I see the logic in it. It is onik, wise to respect one's enemy. And arrogant, foolish, and stupid to underestimate them. I was foolish once before, and let my arrogance precede me. I thought I was...unslaad. Limitless. It proved to be my undoing. That I am here now is the product of such assumptions. I'm...still learning my lesson in that regard."
Brii was very quiet for a moment, musing upon Alduin's words, staring at the ground.
"You betrayed them, didn't you?" she asked finally. "The dragons that taught you their language, and you regret it?"
"I regret a lot of things, thuri," he answered, avoiding the question. "Mostly, that I did not see what I had done wrong much sooner. But if I had, I would not be here. I should not regret it, as much as I may want to."
Brii smiled a little. "I feel the same," she said quietly.
It was very peaceful, that silence that followed her words. A breeze swept across the river and found its way to them, stirring the leaves of the trees. It was quiet there. He'd never felt such peace in Mundus, such satisfaction without fire and destruction. It was entertaining for the moment, how calm the air around them was, barely a sound to disturb them, save for the sounds of the horses, and the wind. The sounds of life, living, breathing around them.
A bird called from far away, arcing through the air, and the peaceful moment was broken. Jealousy crept over the dragon in human form then. A blessing it must be for Brii that she knew not the feeling of ascending to the heavens, then arcing downward, feeling the drop, feeling the rush of wind within the webbing of wing. To not be bound to the earth in mortal flesh.
But he felt the unrest, crawling across his skin like a handful of needles, a feeling of which she could never understand. As much the same as he struggled to understand the way she made him feel as she tilted her head to the side and...smiled.
When she looked at him, and smiled, he felt...drem. He felt at peace.
But why?
The dragon in human form had a great desire to find out.
Notes:
Translations:
'kaan drem ov'- the words of power for the Kyne's Peace Shout that calms enemies for a brief time.
'Mey'-fool
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