#afasdfnwdsfgr hrmph

[sulevinblade]

DWC Prompt: Ghil/Solas, “Make me”

This didn’t go how I thought it was going to. Not totally happy with the tone of it, set shortly after Ghilanel finishes her specialization training, ~1500 words. For @dadrunkwriting.

“Make me,” and the ice around her ankles creaked in protest as the tension it held increased, tightening the hold.

“I think the decision you made may be dangerously short-sighted and I wish you would have taken more consultation before making it.”

She sighed and leaned forward on the cold stone rail of the balcony, arms folded to support her as she watched the mages’ banner being raised and mounted on the newly refurbished tower. “You think I haven’t sufficiently earned their trust yet.” She’d made them equals, given them a unifying purpose and a safe gathering place, even dedicated a portion of Skyhold exclusively to their use. Was this really such a betrayal? She was only one person.

Solas stepped forward to stand next to her. His presence at her side was normally reassuring but right now there was a distance. “I think you underestimate their fear and their skills of observation. Do you think myself, Dorian, and Vivienne are the only mages sensitive enough to realize what’s changed about you? The mages you’ve gathered are more than familiar with templars. They’ve seen the trainers arrive and they’ve seen them now assimilate into the castle’s regular population so they know whatever choice you made, it’s finished now.”

“If they already know then why do I need to address it?” Even asking the question made her stomach sink; Ghilanel knew the answer, but speaking before the entirety of the Inquisition, or even just of its mages, made her sick to think about. Cullen and Fiona were far more skilled at things like this but she couldn’t expect them to handle something this personal.

“The longer you leave this unspoken, the greater the suspicion will grow, and while the Inquisition is strong, it will not survive the departure of the mages or worse, their mutiny. You cannot allow this to go unremarked upon much longer, Inquisitor. Your people must know who they’re following.”

The title made her cringe but it also proved his point. Ghilanel turned to look at Solas over her shoulder. The sympathy on his face eased her concern a little. “I’ll come up with something. I won’t leave them in the dark, Solas. They’ve followed me this far, they deserve to know.”

It had been several days since then, however, and the well of ideas remained dry. Cullen hadn’t told the troops he was going through lyrium withdrawal. Cassandra and Leliana kept their crises of faith as private as possible; it was only Ghilanel’s position that gave her the privilege of knowing their minds. The line between being a trustworthy leader and being too open with the people who followed her seemed finer all the time and there was no example in the Inquisition for her to use as a guide.

Then, as he had done so many months earlier on a mountain path near Haven, Solas forced her hand.

She gathered her circle at the gates to depart for the Western Approach, with herself, Solas, Blackwall, Cassandra, and Alistair as the forward party. Her mind was elsewhere, on getting answers from the Wardens and what it might mean for two of the men riding with her, when she felt the temperature plummet. That and the thrumming she was now hyperaware of were all the warning Ghilanel had before her boots were encased in ice.

The air among those in the courtyard might as well have frozen too, silent as it was. Every head turned, however, to the source of the spell.

“Solas! What is the meaning of this?” Cassandra’s voice was confused somewhere behind Ghilanel’s left shoulder. At the moment, all she could follow was sound, her vision stuck somewhere in the middle distance as she processed what was happening. Noise spread out from Cassandra after she spoke, the assembly starting to react. The horses were spooked but she could hear Blackwall trying to calm them, calling over a couple of soldiers to help lead the animals away from what was happening. The last thing they needed was a panicked horse further complicating what was already a very precarious situation.

“There is a matter the Inquisitor must resolve before we can leave Skyhold, Seeker.” Solas was far enough that she couldn’t reach him with her sword. Not that she would ever try, but the effect wasn’t lost on her. Her normal methods of conflict resolution would not work here. She twisted her hips, testing the strength of the ice holding her in place. No less than she expected. She wasn’t going anywhere just yet.

“Whatever that matter is, this cannot be the best way to handle it.” The surprise and concern in Cassandra’s tone warmed Ghilanel, not for her own sake but because it meant there was no way Cassandra had anticipated something like this from Solas. Perhaps now he’d see how much Cassandra genuinely trusted him. Not that it mattered right now. Right now she knew all Cassandra saw was Solas pinning her in place with spikes of ice.

“Perhaps not, but it is the most direct and efficient. The Inquisitor knows what she needs to do.” His tone was even, level, not antagonistic in the least, but Ghilanel still heard Cassandra approaching. That was what made her lift her hand and finally focus her vision. Solas had his staff in his hand and his legs bent, clearly prepared to cast again. His face was a mask, unreadable but for the intention in his eyes. Despite herself, Ghilanel couldn’t help but feel she’d disappointed him by not taking action sooner. She’d brought this on herself.

“Solas. This is not the time or the place. Please release me.” She knew his intention, but no one else here did, and the longer she stood with her legs frozen, the larger the crowd gathering to watch grew. It contained both mages and templars, and the implications of the outcome of this for all of them were staggering. She had to handle this flawlessly.

“On the contrary, there is no better place and no more time to lose. I will not release you; you must release yourself. And be warned, should you draw your sword and attempt to use it on the ice, you will only damage your blade.” Naturally Solas would provide supernaturally hard ice for this as well. He never did anything by half. Ghilanel stared at him and shook her head.

“You are doing more harm than good right now. Think about how this looks and let me go.”

“No.” This time Ghilanel had to raise both hands as a murmur swelled from the assembled crowd and she saw several of the templars among them reaching for weapons or beginning to gather their focus. Creators, what a disaster that would be, for the mages she’d worked so hard to incorporate into this effort to see the templars around them converge on someone like Solas. She had no rubric against which to measure things like this but she’d seen Solas in the field, unbowed by half a dozen rogue templars engaging with him at once. If they tried it here, he would only humiliate them in front of the people they were meant to be protecting.

“Solas. Free me.”

“Inquisitor.” His eyes softened a little, imploring her silently, and in the moment she was shocked at her own resentment. “Make me,” and the ice around her ankles creaked in protest as the tension it held increased, tightening the hold.

“No. I will not.” Ghilanel closed her eyes, lowered her arms, and raised her voice. Best to simply get it over with. “I have sought the powers of a templar for one singular purpose, and that is to defeat Corypheus. There are templars enough among you, templars who answer to the Commander and to me. I will not allow their power to exist here unchecked and should every mage in this castle come for my life, I will never turn my powers on you. So release me or not, Solas, the choice is yours, but make it.” She opened her eyes again and settled her gaze on Solas, her speech slow and deliberate. She was done. “We are wasting daylight.”

The pitch of the crowd’s murmurs rose, curiosity outweighing anxiety as they turned their attention to Solas. For his part, he wasted no further time; the ice at her ankles burst into a cloud of snow and was quickly swept away. He slipped his staff into the straps on his back and shifted his posture straight again, moving in a moment from a challenger to the humble apostate most of the Inquisition saw him to be. “Thank you, Inquisitor.”

Ghilanel drew a deep breath and turned toward where Blackwall held the horses, refusing to acknowledge the dozens of eyes on her, including Cassandra’s and Alistair’s. She had meant her statement about wasting daylight and right now all she wanted was to start putting miles between herself and this courtyard. She gave just a few directions–Alistair to take point, she and Blackwall in the middle, and Cassandra and Solas to ride at the rear–and the party was silent as they departed Skyhold. Any conversations to be had about what just happened, and she knew there would have to be several, would wait until that night’s camp.

#dadwc #my writing #ghilanel lavellan #solas #solavellan #watch as i make characterization solution to gameplay choices #i've always played templars sorry not sorry #suchanadorer #this is such a draft #i'm happy with how she comports herself #but not with how the situation comes to pass in the first place #afasdfnwdsfgr hrmph #ANYWAY TAKE THIS