Chapter Text
It wasn’t the first time they’d been ambushed in the bowels of a crumbling ruin but it was probably the most successful.
The room had been large, the walls and ceiling still solid, with deep shadows in the corners. The flasks had come from there, something noxious that burnt the eyes and at the back of the throat. The first had hit the Inquisitor on the side of her head and she’d crumpled as it shattered to smoke against her skull.
He’d heard Sera, swearing and coughing. He’d tried to cast something simple to clear the smoke and he’d felt his connection to the Fade severed-
Templars
Templars and Lavellan was down, Sera as blind as he was and Vivienne as helpless.
He’d heard fast footsteps then, in the room in front and in the passageway behind them. The next flask smashed near his feet, making Sera swear again and the third hit Vivienne’s arm with enough force for her to drop her staff.
He’d turned towards the passageway, gripped his staff in both hands waited until the blurry humanoid outline of the Templar was close enough. And swung.
It must have connected well because the man fell in a clattering heap but there were more behind him and one of them practically ran into Solas which sent him tumbling straight into Vivienne.
He felt a sword at his throat before the smoke cleared. He let them drag him aside.
-
They had rope and they’d set about tying the others. The way Andruil might have tied a deer-
Lavellan was breathing and Sera’s loud, pointless defiance seemed to be making her stir. They’d left her sword where it fell, and Vivienne’s staff. Sera’s bow they’d thrown as far as it would go, closely followed by her quiver, spilling arrows across the far corner.
The one Solas had hit had taken his staff and was expending an inordinate amount of energy trying to break it in two.
He’d…known how it was going to end. It was only a question of ensuring some of them left alive.
The sword pointed at his belly had moved casually up to his chin.
“Which one’s the other mage, knife-ear?” The man behind it asked.
“There isn’t one.” Solas replied instantly.
The Templar kicked him and he didn’t manage to move his arm quite fast enough to stop it connecting directly with his stomach.
He curled instinctively until the point of the sword pressing at his chin forced him flat against the floor again.
“So who’s the other staff belong to?” The Templar enquired, reasonable as could be.
“It’s mine.”
That earned another kick, the ribs this time. Predictable.
“Would you go into the Wilds without a spare weapon?” Solas said in a rush, making sure to sound more hurt, more frightened than he actually was.
Thankfully it seemed to convince them.
The sword point drifted down to the hollow of his throat and rested there. The man at the end of it changed tact.
“What are you knife-ears doing with a lady like her?”
As calm and rational as before, as if the wrong answer wouldn’t be a death sentence-
Solas lied without hesitation. “Darkspawn ate her guard. She’s paying us to take her to Skyhold.”
The Templar turned towards the other prisoners so that his back was almost entirely to Solas, his attention elsewhere and if he’d only himself to worry about…if he was quick-
But there were eight of them scattered around the room, only Cole could have made it out unscathed.
“You hired a fucking apostate and a couple of Dalish castoffs?” The Templar asked Vivienne incredulously. “Ma’am you must have been desperate.”
The Inquisitor had opened her eyes, she was twisting slightly in her bonds, testing them. And both Sera and Vivienne were glancing at her occasionally. He couldn’t have the Templar notice that and think about it too much.
So he moved, as if he meant to make a break for it, even if he wasn’t putting enough effort into it to get far-
Why waste energy he was likely to need later?
The kick landed square in the middle of his back, knocked the air from him and sent him sprawling.
He ended up encircled by them on his hands and knees and for a moment he thought he might have misread them, that they would just run him through-
“Strip.” The talkative one, probably their leader, ordered.
He heard Vivienne let out a hiss and Lavellan made a chocked sound-
He’d have thought they’d have caught on quicker.
Solas sat back on his heels and took off his jacket, then his shirt while Lavellan cursed a quiet bitter stream of broken Elven. He caught pieces of it, something about the Forgotten Ones eating their souls followed by a request that the Dread Wolf take them which almost made him smirk.
And then Sera caught up.
“What are you doing?” She demanded. “What are you-”
And it must have sunk in completely because Sera exploded.
“FUCK! SOLAS! GET THE HELL AWAY FROM HIM YOU SHITTY BASTARDS! LEAVE HIM ALONE!”
Solas sighed. It was just so very…Sera. As if screaming would help in any practical way-
He met her eyes and gave her a glare that held half the anger he had building for the Templars around him.
“Sera,” He said firmly. “Shut. Up.”
She looked so young, so distressed as if the very idea this could happen was enough to go to pieces over. He didn’t look at Lavellan, he…couldn’t. But if he could quiet Sera, if he didn’t fight, if they continued to believe he was the only mage and most especially if they didn’t look at the Inquisitor too closely then-
“Don’t-” Sera started.
“Shut. Up.”
He turned away, he didn’t want to look at any of them while-
He put it firmly out of his mind, decided to instead be thankful Sera had gone quiet.
He took off his trousers and smalls, the floor was as cold as he’d expected. The Templars shifted around him. Some of them were taking off chest plates and putting them aside, making him wish for a small knife to slip-
But that wouldn’t work either.
The man behind him knelt and grabbed his arms, forcing his wrists together and holding him still.
He didn’t struggle.
He felt himself starting to panic, some old idiotic instinct from the times before kicking in and urging him to fight, telling him he was somehow more helpless now than he had been moments ago, fully clothed with a sword at his throat. He pushed it away and tried to concentrate on anger instead.
Anger had always been more useful for surviving indignities than fear.
Their leader kicked his legs apart and knelt between them, laughing at Solas’ snarl and-
And what came next would hurt.
He didn’t bother to try relaxing, it wouldn’t help and he was unlikely to succeed. He concentrated instead on trying to stay quiet. He was partly successful. The pain, which was enough to making his vision blur, came out as little more than an angry hiss.
At least the rest of them would be easier after this-
The Templar shoved and thrust and Solas thought of mantras, the silent words so engrained that they came easily and if he concentrated on that then the pain seemed smaller.
He tried to focus on them at the expense of everything else. Not just the pain but the thought that his companions were a few feet away, that Lavellan was watching and then he thought of her kiss and that made him furious because the Templars had no right to touch that, to spoil it.
Solas glared at the man on top of him with his ridiculous expressions and his face too close to Solas’ and his breath like cheap ale-
It was all he could do to turn back to the mantras instead of trying to bite the bastard’s nose off.
The Templar finished, withdrew, rose and another had taken his place before he’d even finished straightening his clothes. Solas wondered how much longer they were likely to last and whether they were more likely to try and imprison them or cut them loose-
Then one of them grabbed his ear and yanked his head to the side and his mind focused firmly back on the present.
A strong hand grasped his jaw and squeezed, trying to force his mouth open. He kept it shut and an eye on the man doing it for any sign of how far he was going to-
The Templar punched him, which numbed the pain everywhere except his head, made his vision blur, made his mouth-
But apparently that was as far as the Templar was willing to go because he didn’t try again. He was talking though, probably something that Solas was supposed to find demeaning or threatening and which was probably incredibly unimaginative.
He was probably regularly called worse by Dalish children-
The second one finished and the man who’d tried to fuck his face stepped into the gap he left looking as if he had a point to prove.
He put a hand around Solas neck, forcing his head back into the man holding him still. The grip was too tight. In the wrong place to choke or strangle with any efficiency but more than enough to underline the entire point of this; he didn’t have a choice and his life was in the hands of others who might well kill him for sport.
Fenedhis lasa.
The pressure on his neck made it harder. Harder to focus on other things, harder to take his mind away from the pain, harder to control natural fear and panic-
He told himself that he couldn’t lash out, couldn’t struggle. Repeated it like a mantra in his mind. If he hurt them they’d make it worse and probably make it take longer too-
He may be he should have just opened his mouth.
By the time that one finished and let go of his throat he felt like he was drowning. He had a moment to gasp for air before the man holding his arms pushed him forward into the floor.
He turned his head in time to prevent his nose breaking on the stone and there were still more of them and the anger was getting harder to hold, the mantras harder to concentrate on-
“Darkspawn!” A man’s voice cried out from the tunnel ahead.
That shook them up, swearing and sounds of hurried movement, he forced his eyes back open.
From what he could see the Templars were planning to flee, grabbing armour and the packs the Inquisition had brought with them. But they made no move to untie the women or pick them up which meant they were probably being left behind, to speed the Templars’ retreat or slow the Darkspawn.
The man on his back got off, releasing his arms. And he could get up, but that was likely to earn him a sword stroke rather than a beating, they were hurrying now after all-
He stayed on the floor and hopefully seemed defeated and broken enough that they wouldn’t bother to-
A hand closed around his wrist and before he could jerk away he’d been stabbed.
No…tethered. A small dagger, glanced off the bone on the outside to pin him to the floor by a strip of his own skin. They probably thought it would be enough to keep him there but it was far less damaging than the things he’d done to get away from Anaris-
So he watched and waited until they were gone. And then ripped the flesh from his forearm.
Another hurt among many. He breathed, took a moment to regain…focus and sat up.
“Solas?” Lavellan murmured softly, there was concern in her tone and sorrow and-
He couldn’t dwell on that, not now.
“I’m coming.” He replied and staggered to his feet.
Standing hurt, walking hurt. He did it anyway.
-
He went to Sera first and tried, clumsily to untie the knots but a weakened hand and the blood trailing down his arm made it impossible. So he got up and looked for one of the scattered arrows. When he had it he broke it in two; the sharp end would help him get through rope more efficiently than the Inquisitor’s sword-
It wasn’t until he turned back that he actually looked at them.
Lavellan seemed to be trying, and perhaps failing, to contain her outrage.
Vivienne was determinedly not looking at him at all.
And Sera-
She’d turned her face towards the floor so he couldn’t see her expression but from the way she was shaking he guessed that her eyes would be red if she wasn’t still crying.
She was still shaking when he knelt beside her and started working at her bonds.
“Sera, I know you have a spine,” He said quiet but firm. “I suggest you find it quickly because we may have to deal with Darkspawn in a moment and I am in no shape to fight.”
She stilled.
Solas turned his attention back to the ropes. Sera took deep breaths which sounded wet and ragged when she breathed out. But she seemed to be getting herself under control.
Eventually he managed to work her free.
Sera sat up and pressed her palms into her eyes, grinding the heels of her hands into the sockets as if that would somehow make it all go away. But when she eventually looked up she met his eyes.
“Right. Darkspawn. Arrows. Got it.”
She surged to her feet and had her bow and quiver back before Solas could stand. She’d scooped together half a quiver full of arrows before he’d made it over to Lavellan.
“You know you’re still-” Sera began.
“Please help Vivienne.”
“-naked and bleeding.” Sera muttered but she went to do as he asked.
Lavellan frowned up at him as he knelt beside her and he found he still couldn’t hold her gaze. She opened her mouth several times as though she wished to speak before changing her mind.
“We’re going straight back to Skyhold and you’re going to see the healers.” She said finally.
“Ma nuvenin.”
“Solas,” And it was nearly the same tone he’d used on Sera, gentler but the message was clear enough-
He was slipping.
“Ir abelas.” He murmured and Lavellan shook her head.
“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have- I could have-”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does!”
He did not have a reply to that so he stayed silent.
She shifted as the ropes came away and rubbed her wrists. He still couldn’t hold her gaze.
He staggered back to his feet and found Vivienne was already free and far closer than he’d expected. She reached towards him and Solas found himself flinching from her before he could control the instinct.
Her expression remained neutral, her posture nonthreatening. She didn’t move closer as he edged away. Her outstretched hand stayed low. Everything calculated to show that she was not an enemy, as if he was a frightened dog-
“Solas,” She began and her voice was as close to lacking scorn as he’d ever heard it. “Let me help you.”
Not actually a question or an instruction, he noted, she was assuming that-
He shook his head slowly.
“No.”
She stepped forward then, frowning, perhaps confused? Solas stepped back.
“Solas dear, don’t be-”
“I do not want you near me.” He snarled, surprising himself with the amount of anger leaking into his words. “I do not want you to touch me. I do not want you to use your magic on me. Can I make myself any clearer?”
“Now don’t be ridiculous-” Vivienne began.
“I am not being ridiculous,” Solas growled. “This is exactly what you advocate.”
That made her stop.
“Did you enjoy it?” Solas pressed and he should have stopped five sentences ago, should have prevented the bitter, vicious edge he was giving his words but he hurt and his self-control was cracking.
“No.” Vivienne stated her face blank. “I took no pleasure in it.”
“Oh you should!” He declared because apparently he no longer had the will to be Solas instead of Fen’Harel. “It’s what happens to half the mages in your precious Circles. Since you’re so eager to herd them back there you should at least enjoy the consequences.”
“Solas that is not-”
“YES IT IS!” He thundered and the outburst made them all start. “Have you spoken to any of the Rebels? Have you listened to Cole? This is exactly what many of them have survived and exactly what you would see most of them subjected to again. So please- LOOK!”
Vivienne’s expression broke to a snarl and Lavellan deftly stepped between them.
“Vivienne go watch the tunnel. Solas, we need to leave now, get your stuff so we can go.”
His gaze dropped to the floor and he noticed that his hands were shaking. When had they started-
He pushed the thought aside and gathered his clothes.
The trousers were easy enough, even if they were covered in blood. He considered the shirt for a moment before deciding it would serve better as a bandage and tying it around his wounded arm.
And if any of them noticed that he was quite adept at tying his own bandages with one hand they thankfully didn’t comment.
He shrugged his jacket on over the top and rose to find Sera holding his staff.
She thrust it out towards him awkwardly.
“Ummm, here.”
“Thank you.” He murmured.
They followed the Inquisitor out the way they’d came and thankfully didn’t run into any Darkspawn.