#Ill fix the formatting and put it under a readmore in fhe morning ciz rn its 1am

[dreadfutures]

“ i’m worried about you. ” for the protective prompts!

Thanks for the ask! 🥺❤️

Growing up in Southern Ferelden during the Fifth Blight, Ixchel learned well to be afraid of the dark. After her experiences in the Deep Roads in her first life, that fear has now become a handicap.

(This drabble might get incorporated into the fic when I tackle the Descent! So thanks for the inspiration ☺️)

An endless fall into unending darkness; the flicker of torches in the darkspawn colony deep, deep below; the hissing Elvhen voices of the Emissary Alpha. In the Deep Roads, where day and night had forsaken her in favor of the bleary, unchanging glow of the Dwarven architecture, and time's passage was marked in meals and bandages, Ixchel had a difficult time remembering what were dreams of past expeditions and what were the waking nightmares of the present. Either way, there was little rest to be had. Asleep in Solas's arms, she at least did not wake screaming as she might have once.

That did not mean she was holding it together.

Solas did his best to stay near her, but as the only mage in the party, he was sometimes forced to dart away through the rippling Fade--to renew a barrier on a companion, or to shape the battlefield with strategically placed rocks and mines. Even the briefest separation shredded her mental fortitude; in the Deep Roads, it only took a few yards for someone to disappear into the dark, and for a genlock or a giant spider to take their place. In those moments, panic shot through her like a lightning bolt, and she would throw herself into battle with a dying woman's fervor until she came into view of Solas or Hal.

Once they were in sight, she could reassure herself at least that this was not <I>then</I>. With the Hero of Ferelden and Fen'Harel at her side, she knew she could prevail against darkspawn and Sha-Brytol and everything in between.

At least, that was what she told herself. But with every mile they descended toward what she knew was the Titan's refuge, her desperation mounted.

Ixchel jumped at every noise, and she found herself almost incapable of speaking, especially above a murmur. And it was getting harder and harder to sleep.

Her restlessness was starting to take a toll on Solas as well. He already suffered here, where it was so difficult to navigate the Fade in his dreams; the guilt weighed heavily on her, knowing that her tossing and turning and clinging made it harder for him to rest his mind and gather his strength. She fretted that by keeping him from reconnecting to the Fade, she might be weakening him and his senses, and that any change in his power or attentiveness might prove fatal. Any tragedy that befell their hardy group would hang over her head for eternity, convinced as she was that she would ultimately be responsible.

Ixchel ruminated on all of these matters one evening as she tended the fire. It was technically their watch rotation, but Solas was pouring over the lyrium-addled ravings they had found accompanying a dead dwarf deep in the caves, and Ixchel's weary mind flitted inattentively between guard duty and anxious spiraling.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when a deep voice rumbled behind her: "Da'len."

Ixchel turned quickly to face Hal as he approached. The dim firelight cast deep shadows across the cavernous eye sockets and sunken cheeks he had painted in the fashion of a Legionnaire's skull. From within the sea of black ink, his silver-white eyes reflected the fire like a predator. He stalked toward her out of the dark where the rest of their traveling companions rested, and when he reached her side, he lowered himself to the ground with a grace that seemed to be both precisely calculated and incredibly natural.

Hal sat all too close beside her--closer than he ever had, really--so that their shoulders touched. He was warm and solid, and he leaned slightly against her.

"I'm worried about you," he said flatly.

Ixchel looked away sharply and caught the tail end of Solas's concerned glance for her sake. He returned to reading, though it was impossible to tell if he was truly reading or eavesdropping.

She worried at her dry and cracking lips for a moment as she considered her response. Hal was silent, and perhaps he would have been silent for a thousand years if that was how long it took her to find something to say. Hal didn't seem to be a man of many words these days, so the fact that he had come out of his way simply to make this announcement carried a weight in its own right

Ixchel found nothing in her dwindling mental reserves to deflect his concerns. So she bowed her head and pressed her forehead into her knees. Her heart pounded in her chest, though it had been hours since she had even last <I>moved</I>.Every breath felt strained as though her ribs had been replaced with inflexible iron.

"Yeah," she rasped into her lap. "Me too."

Hal shifted against her, and she startled again as he wrapped his arm around her back. He rubbed her shoulder slowly but firmly to press her closer to his side.

Almost immediately, her eyes burned with tears. This close to him, she could feel the Taint in his blood, hear the same strange song that whispered to the hollowest parts of them.

"This is not my Calling," the Warden murmured into her dirty hair. "Neither is it yours, da'len."

#bloodied and broken #the descent #the descent dlc #halevune mahariel #solas #ixchel lavellan #warrior lavellan #solavellan #drabble #warden #mahariel #lavellan #Ill fix the formatting and put it under a readmore in fhe morning ciz rn its 1am #bloodied and broken bits