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When should I let him go? |
When the blood that is not yours breaks free. |
And hadn’t it broken free? Hadn’t she embraced the truth of what she held in her veins? And as she watched Corypheus, ancient magister, ancient darkspawn, the truth hit her with the force of a ton of bricks- |
Corypheus could only be killed the same way an archdemon was killed - with the sacrifice of another. |
And if she did nothing, Helena would be that sacrifice. |
In that moment, she cursed herself. Cursed her fascination with this world, the amount of reading and playing she had done. Cursed the marks on her hand that helped, but didn’t, because why had she not been shown this before? |
Deep down, she knew the answer. That if she had known this before, she might have lost courage, might have lost heart. She might have refused to go forward out of fear. |
But one thing was clear to her in that moment where time was suspended in a crystal. It couldn’t be the Inquisitor. It couldn’t be anyone else except for herself, not just because she wasn’t of this world, but because she carried a piece of Urthemiel’s soul within her and that was what was needed to put a final end to Corypheus. The Old God soul was the true weapon that would defeat Corypheus. |
She knew it, just as she knew that she would likely perish in her attempt. That was what usually happened, was it not? It’s okay, she thought as she took a step towards Helena. I’ve gotten to spend time with all of them. I’ve seen and done things that I could never have imagined. For all they’ve done for me, I can do this for them. |
Her mind was calm, clear as glass. Whatever fear she had, she shed; like snakeskin, she discarded it on her path towards the Inquisitor. |
Helena’s sword lay on the ground, hilt and blade stained red. Samarra grabbed it, the weight of it countered by the surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins. A step, two, three, and she was standing behind Corypheus- |
As Helena’s energy flagged lower she raised the sword - and her eyes locked with Solas’ at that moment, and there was a dawning understanding in his eyes, and his face twisted into horror, and his lips twisted into a plea - Don’t! - but she could only smile at him and mouth I’m sorry - and she meant it, because now she would perish before she could confess the depth of her love for him, and that secret would now likely eat her soul in death for not having found a release in life. |
She turned her head away, unable to look at him any longer for fear she might not be able to go through with what she needed to do - because, and it was selfish of her, she didn’t want to go to a place where he would not be there. Holding the hilt of the sword with both her hands, she plunged the blade into the back of the darkspawn magister- |
Corypheus roared, a sound of agony and fury and defeat, and she felt something being ripped out of her chest - and it was a pain unlike any other, a loss of sense and self and soul - the blood in her veins burned and she would have sworn that she felt her muscles turn to ash, felt her heart slowly grind to a halt. |
And in that seemingly everlasting moment she saw into his mind, saw what he had once seen - an atrium, a foyer, richly, grandly decorated, but now covered in shadows and darkness and everything was wrong - and in the atrium were nine mirrors, tall and towering, reaching to the very ceiling, and two of them were shattered, utterly shattered, but even though they had lost most of what had once been beautiful she knew it was for the best, for the other mirrors were blackened and darkened and deadened and whispers of malice oozed from their sides. Then she was moved further, further in through resplendent, magnificent doors that lead to a splendid, glittering, majestic hall, at the very end of which stood nine thrones on a raised dais - but they were all empty, and she saw for herself at last the truth of what Corypheus had once seen, the transcendent horror of having all belief disintegrated. There was nothing but death and decay and vengeance and avarice and greed and every kind of sin in that hall and on those thrones. |
No gods sat on those thrones. |
No one who sat on those thrones could ever have been a god. |
The agony came to an abrupt halt as a deep, infinite darkness drew her swiftly into its depths. |
His feet sped across the ruins of their own accord, every muscle desperate to reach Samarra before she could go through with her plan. |
He would not let her sacrifice himself. Not for his mistake. Not when the world - when he - needed her. |
But he was too late. The sword plunged into Corypheus’ back. |
Yet another miscalculation on his part. Yet another mistake he would have to bear. Yet more blood on his already blood-stained hands. |
The light that encapsulated the two forms - one evil, the other good, oh, so good and so kind - was so bright he had to shield his eyes from the glow. He could hear Corypheus’ last cry, one of enraged defeat, and he thought he heard her sob, but in his mind all he could picture was Samarra smiling so sadly at him, her eyes bright with tears as she apologized to him. |
No, that cannot happen! Not her! |
The ground began to rumble violently and unsteadily, and when he reopened his eyes he knew that they were descending. Knew too, that he needed to find a safe place for when they would eventually collide with terra firma. And yet, he could not bring himself to move, not when she was at his feet - not when she was unmoving, when the pale shroud of death began to creep slowly up her neck; he would not let it, he would not, he would not let death claim her, not when he had laid claim to her already- |
Solas slumped to the ground, pulling her unresponsive body onto his lap, cradling her, shielding her from the debris falling all around them - he did not care that they were speeding towards the earth at breakneck speeds. He did not care for the concerned shouts of his companions. All that mattered was keeping his eyes on her, so that if - when, he corrected himself immediately, praying with a fervency to a deity he did not know existed that it was when and not if - she breathed, even the smallest breath, he would know. That was all he wanted, that was all he needed to know, that was all that mattered - that he was there when she opened her eyes. Because she had to open her eyes. She had to, she had to - did she not know how much she was needed, did she not know how important she was, she couldn’t just leave, not like this, not now... |
They crashed into the ground, the impact so jarring it jolted through his bone, ripping a stray ligament or two in its path, leaving his ears ringing violently, his eyes blurred from all the dust raised. From the corner of his eye, he could see his companions lose their bearing and slam into stray boulders, could hear the sound of bones breaking. Through the harsh sound of rock meeting rock, he could hear the shouts of those who had been on the ground. |
And still she was not breathing. |
A shadow hovered over him. He did not have to look up to know who it was. |
"Is she okay?" Helena demanded. He said nothing. The Inquisitor raised her voice, high-pitched and hysterical. "Solas, is she okay?" |
He swallowed, a difficult feat given how large the knot in his throat was. "She does not appear to be breathing," his voice sounded hollow even to himself. |
"No, no, you’re wrong," Helena began backing away, her hysteria increasing by the second. "She can’t be- no, she can’t! You have to do something, Solas! Do something! You can’t just- she can’t- You have to-" There was a choked sob, a sound of dismay and disbelief and despair all tangled together, and he heard the Inquisitor fall to her knees. There were more footsteps, and he raised his head to see the Tevinter mage place his hand on Helena’s shoulder. |
Dorian’s voice held a fine sheen of tears. "We have to get her back to Skyhold. Anders and Widris might- they might be able to do something." |
"Yes, of course. You’re right. That will work, it has to," Helena pulled herself together, using the hand Dorian offered to get to her feet again, but Solas could see the effort it took her. "We need to leave. Immediately." |
Dorian took the brunette aside, but he could hear their conversation. "Helena, amica, you need to see a healer yourself, you are wounded badly-" |
"I don’t care. What do you suggest, waiting till we’re all better before trying to help Samarra?" |
"Harding is here, and so are the scouts-" |
"No, Dorian. I’m going with her. I have to." |
Before Dorian could respond, Helena spun around, staggering away from them and towards the Inquisition camp, barking out urgent demands for help and healers. After a moment’s hesitation, Dorian followed her, concern creasing his face as he attempted to persuade the Inquisitor to get some healing, leaving him alone with Samarra. |
"She is not dead." Cole’s calm demeanor reassured Solas that the young lad spoke the truth. |
"Then I may be able to help her." He rose to his feet, searching for his orb. If he could just get his hands on it- |
A guttural cry of despair escaped him when he spotted his orb. |
It was shattered. |
In that instant he felt the entirety of his plans, his visions for the future, fizzle and melt away. His orb, the keystone for all his hopes, was destroyed, and all his magic, all his power, was now lost to him forevermore. |
"No, this cannot be," his breath hitched, his hands gingerly picking up the broken remnants as though there were a way he could put it back together. "This was not meant to happen!" All my plans, gone. How am I to regain my power? How am I to help my people? He put the shards aside gently, and got to his feet. |
Samarra had never been concerned about the orb. She was concerned about Corypheus having it, but not once had she mentioned or suggested that the Inquisitor take it away from him. |
Because she’d known there would be nothing to claim. |
Solas turned to look at Cole, the realization burning through him. "She knew this would happen." It was a statement, not a question, and his suspicions were confirmed when the young lad nodded. |
A flicker of anger bubbled up in his core, followed immediately by a wave of uneasiness. He strode over to where Samarra’s body was resting and began rifling through her pockets. What he was searching for, he had no idea - but he knew he would find something. |
With shaky hands, he pulled out a twisted, cord-like chain made of metal. The craftsmanship was exquisite, but that was not what caught his eye. |
It was what was hanging from the chain. |
A single dragon’s tooth, polished to a high shine, gleamed in the light of the moons. Solas slowly reached out and wrapped his hand around the pendant. |
He knew she’d meant to give it to him. He knew it was meant as a warning for him. He knew he was being watched. |
Something dark began to bubble in the pit of his stomach. "She knows who I am?" he asked softly, the calm before a storm. |
Cole was calm as he spoke. "You should not have given your orb to Corypheus, Dread Wolf." |
Fury burned in the core of him, fury that he’d been too blinded to see that she knew, fury that she’d deceived him - him, he who his people knew as Trickster. |
She knew. She. Knew. |
She had always known who he was, and she had said nothing. He thought she had given him all of her, but the truth - the bitter, bitter truth - was that it had all been a mask. Every moment she had spent with him, every word she’d given him - they were all coated in deception, meant to serve her own needs, fuel her own plans. |
She had willingly pitted herself against him, knowing full well who he was. |
Pride broke through the rage, a twisted, satisfied kind of pride. It bubbled in the pool of his anger. She’d known who he truly was, and she had not turned from him. She had not exposed him. Had not given away his secrets. No, on the contrary, she had dared to match wits with him, to clash with him, and it irked him to know that she’d been more successful in her endeavor than he had. |
Solas had no idea who she was. |
She had tricked him. |
And he would not stand for it. |
She cannot be allowed to return with the others. That was the only thought in his head at the moment; that she might not awaken was a possibility he no longer bothered to entertain. Though she would certainly have left warnings for the others, there was a good chance they would not be able to properly act on them without her presence. She was a wild card, one who could - and very likely would, if given the chance - topple any plans he had or might make. |
He was not going to let that happen. |
Cole stepped forward, brows creased in a frown, his hands on the hilt of the blades he carried with him at all times. "You cannot have her." |
He tried to reason with the once-spirit. "You see the condition she is in, Cole. They cannot help her. I can-" |
"She won’t go with you." Cole blocked his access to Samarra’s body, a determined look on his face. |
"Cole, there must be some way to help her. But they cannot help her, she must come with me!" |
"They can help." The lad was calm. |
"Maybe so, but it will take time. Time that they do not have. I can help her-" |
"She doesn’t want to go with you," Cole shook his head. "It hurt that you wouldn’t ask, but it hurt more that she couldn’t." |
He cocked his head to the side, confused. How did she- did she know I would leave after the orb? Was that why she said nothing about it? "What?" |
"She knew you would leave. It was not supposed to happen this way. No matter what, I want you to know you will always have my respect. You would always leave, with or without. She chose without. She needed time." |
His blood seemed to freeze in his veins. How much did she know? How much damage had she done? He needed to get to her, to get her awake so he could question her, find out the truth, maybe mitigate some of the changes she would surely have made... |
"Step aside, Cole. You know I will not hurt her." |
The young lad did not budge. "She does not want to go with you." |
"She comes with me. Move, Cole - I have no wish to hurt you." |
Cole moved forward, his blades making a soft but sinister hiss as he pulled them out of their sheaths. His grip on them was firm and unyielding as he stared down Solas. "No. I will not let you have her." |
Solas took a step backwards, knowing that he was at a disadvantage. Cole would protect Samarra with all he had; and he was too exhausted from the battle they had just fought, his body too wounded and weakened for him to be able to stand against the young lad. He did not have enough power to disarm the young lad without injury to either of them, and he had no desire to hurt Compassion. |
But oh, how it rankled. How he loathed having to back away. How he wished he had his power, so that there would be no barrier between him and the woman, a few feet away, who was both his lover and now, suddenly, his rival. |
"Very well," he nodded brusquely. |
Cole watched silent, and alert, sizing him up, his eyes following his every move as Solas lifted his jawbone amulet out from under his armor, placing it on the ground between them. "When she awakens, give her this," he instructed. "Tell her- tell her the wolf will find her. Tell her that she cannot hide from me. I will come for her. " |
Cole nodded somberly, twin blades still keeping him at bay. |
The two shared one last look before Solas turned and walked away, his mind already working out the next step he needed to take. |
I must find Mythal. |