Rising Tension
The rain has stopped, you realize, but the courtyard and the training areas are something of a mess. Large puddles are everywhere, the damp grass has been pulled up and mangled by the trampling boots of soldiers and merchants, and the training areas are exceedingly muddy. After getting beaten up in the rain, however, you’re quite certain Bull won’t call off the training due to the less than stellar state of the training yard.
Sure enough, he’s there in the same training yard you always use, despite the fact that parts of it are entirely mud. You gaze forlornly down at your leather boots—you own only one pair of shoes, and you’re not looking forward to wrecking them with mud. Perhaps if you clean them off right away…
Your first fall into the mud happens before you even start sparring… The ground is so damn slippery that you lose your footing while stretching and slide into the mud. You let out a groan while Iron Bull laughs, but a swift kick to the shin sends his feet slipping out from under him as well. Finally, a situation in which you can use his bulk against him.
Stretching is more or less over after that, as the two of you start in on fighting routines. Your footing is terrible; it’s clear that Iron Bull has much more experience fighting in these sorts of conditions. Frustrated after too many falls into mud, you decide to compensate by getting off the ground. The next time you slip, you use the force of your fall to slide through the mud between Bull’s legs, then grab onto that shoulder brace of his to yank yourself up onto his back.
“Oh, not this squirrel shit again!” he swears as he bats at you. “I will fall on you, I promise!”
“What’s one more trip to the healer’s tent?” you ask as you dart up his back, yanking one of his horns to pull yourself up. “Oh, fuck!” you swear as he actually starts to tip backwards. You start wrapping around his shoulders to avoid being crushed, but it was a bluff. He grabs one of your legs and you swear again, wrapping your arms around his horns and locking them into the crook of your arms. This has the unfortunate effect of plastering you to his face as he yanks at your legs in an attempt to dislodge you.
“You can’t tell me this has never happened to you before, Bull!” you call out as he tries to remove you without re-dislocating your hip, no doubt.
“Yeah, but anyone else tries it and I can just stab them,” he growls. “Which I’m CONSIDERING. Although the view is nice.”
It’s a testament to your self-control that your grip doesn’t loosen—your chest IS kind of directly in his face… He gives you a last good yank, but your mud-covered boot slips right off. The lower half of your body swings back down, colliding with Bull and sending both of you careening down into the mud. You’re on top, for a moment, but you take too long untangling your arms from his horns and he twists you into a headlock. As it turns out, however, you’re slippery when wet. As coated in mud as you are from your repeated falls, you slither out of his grip.
The morning practice turns into grapple escapes, with the amusing twist of you both being ridiculously coated in mud. Despite his superior strength and size, Iron Bull just can’t keep a grip on you, whereas his leather braces and horns give you something you can grip, and your smaller size lets you bounce up from falls more quickly. All in all, it’s a riot, and you wish the Chargers had been there to see it. By the time the sun is up, you’re more mud than woman, and Iron Bull is similarly filthy.
“Maybe we should go bathe off?” he asks, his wicked grin confirming your suspicions about his meaning. “It’s such a large tub after all…”
“Oh, shut up.” You roll your eyes to emphasize your point. “You don’t take sexy baths when you’re actually dirty; that ruins the point entirely.”
“Oh? Does that mean you’d be interested in a sexy bath if I was clean?”
“I… Y… Shut up!” You flush slightly, but it’s likely covered up by all the mud. Small blessings. “I’m going to get clean! Good luck—there’s nothing in this world that could get you clean.”
“No cure for a filthy mind!” he agrees cheerfully as the two of you part ways. You begin heading towards the elven baths, but pause. You’ve got a mercenary group pretty firmly behind you, and you’ve endeared yourself to no small number of the higher-ups at Skyhold… Perhaps now is the time to cause a stir? You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t. Just like you shouldn’t have pranked half of the Inner Circle with Sera last night. Just like you arguably should have left weeks ago. But you’ve always had a bit of a rebellious streak in you, and the thought of those cold baths is just so unappealing when you’re caked in mud.
If you’re going to be an elf in a human bathhouse, you might as well be a disgusting, filthy little elvhen’alas in a human bathhouse.
You get a change of clothes (stuffed in a bag to keep them from getting muddy) and positively strut into the “human” bathhouse that you had gone to with Sera. Without her alongside you, the stares and even glares you get are much more obvious, but you’re willing to bet not a soul will say a word to you. It isn’t as though this is officially a humans-only bathhouse. Any repercussions will come later.
You manage to peel out of your horrifically muddy clothes and shake and scrape the worst of the dirt off of you before getting into the bath. You soak luxuriously as a few bathers move to shift away from you, looking away and pretending not to see your pointed ears. You smirk to yourself. You might lose points of favor with the human staff for acting out, but the warm bath is worth it. As is the indignant looks on human faces… It reminds you fondly of your youth, before you were scraping and simpering your way through Orlais.
After your political statement of a bath, you head to the mess. You spot Thea and sit down with her, and she seems pleased to see you. You’ll be happier when you can start fetching meals from the kitchen and bribing her with stolen morsels. Of course, that means you’ll be back to eating every meal, more or less. Skipping meals is such a regular thing with you that you suspect the regularity with which you’re eating (and bathing, come to think of it) will have you gaining weight. Too bad you never gain it where it’s sorely needed… For instance, your less-than-ample chest. You glance towards Thea’s more… generous endowments despite yourself. Even Sera has a nicer bust than you. There’s small-because-you’re-an-elf and then small-for-an-elf. You’re the latter.
You and Thea walk together to the Great Hall, but part ways when you enter Solas’s rotunda, as per usual. She had come in there once… Perhaps it was just a sign of how worried she’d been about you, because she hadn’t set foot in the place since. One of these days, you really need to ask her why. Solas isn’t there anymore, and if most of the staff have some kind of persistent paranoia about him that goes so deep as to seep into the very rocks of Skyhold… Well, it’s something you need to know about. You had assumed all the paranoia about Solas stemmed simply from him being a mysterious, quiet elven apostate, but if there’s more going on, you need to know it before you can combat it.
You begin work on the tome, but before even an hour is up, you’re beginning to sag. Despite a few nights’ rest thanks to Solas’s blanket, or couch, or whatever ridiculous obsession was allowing you to sleep, your exhaustion is starting to catch up with you. If anything, it’s almost making it harder to stay in control, even as it helps slightly with the physical effects of your insomnia. You need to get out of Skyhold. Not in a month, not next week, now. But how can you get in and out without suspicion? Perhaps you can talk Belassan into allowing you to ride out on Revas. The man seems nice enough (perhaps he left the Dalish for a reason), and is actively encouraging the growing fondness between you and the hart. You just need a few hours… Perhaps this afternoon.
For now, you try to redouble your focus onto your work. It only helps so much, and you spend hours frustrated at your own inability to focus both your mind and your eyes. You light up your desk with candles despite the daylight streaming in, hoping more light will help you to see clearly. There’s nothing you can do for the shakiness in your hands other than write slowly and take frequent breaks.
During one of those breaks, someone enters the rotunda. Immediately, you expect another missive from Leliana. Maker, please let it not be another code… You’re in no state. However, not only is it not a code, it’s not even a messenger. To your surprise, Krem walks through the door of the rotunda. He’s carrying a basket and looks mildly annoyed, which is explained quickly by the other Chargers that pile in after him.
“Krem?” you say, clearly confused. “And… Dalish, and Rocky, AND Skinner? What’s the occasion?”
“I wanted to thank you for, uh… Well, you know,” Krem says, throwing a side-glance full of venom at the rest of the Chargers. “These asses saw me walking across the courtyard and had nothing better to do.”
“I wanted to know where he was going with all that food,” says Dalish with a grin.
“And I was hungry,” adds Skinner.
Krem looks annoyed—it’s likely he was intending this to be more of a private event—but you’re quite pleased. You want as many of the Chargers to like you as possible, and these are a few of the ones you know best. You’re especially fond of Skinner, although you’d never tell her that to her face, no more than you’d try to debate the ridiculous Dalish standards of dealing with mages with Dalish.
“Did you bring enough for everyone, Krem?” you say with a grin.
“No,” he says pointedly.
“Well then, we better pop back down to the kitchens and get more, eh?”
The five of you wind up eating on the floor of Solas’ rotunda, the food spread out on a blanket between you. Krem gets over his sourness relatively quickly, and you work to endear yourself to everyone present. You ask questions to Rocky about the explosive powder he’s working on (you know more than you care to admit about Gaatlok), jokingly ask Dalish for “archery tips,” and while the others are distracted jesting and joking, share a quiet moment with Skinner in which you talk about the events leading up to the Hero of Fereldan slaying the Bann’s son. Despite your focus on Krem due to his position of second-in-command, if you had to pick a Charger to spend any amount of personal time with, it would be Skinner. She… understands.
The meal is over too soon. All five of you linger shamelessly, but duty can only be ignored for so long. You see the Chargers off, wait a good ten, fifteen minutes, and then head towards the barn as quickly as you can. You see Blackwall—is he ever anywhere else?—but ignore him, instead hunting down Belassan. It’s not hard; he’s with one of the other harts, a beautiful white and brown creature.
“Belassan, hello,” you say with as charming a smile as you can muster. “Who’s this handsome fellow?”
“Ah, he doesn’t have a name, not technically,” Belassan says, patting the hart affectionately on the neck. “But I’ve been calling him Sulevin.”
You make small talk about the harts, not letting your eagerness get the better of you. You wait for the conversation to turn to Belassan complaining about the hart’s lack of proper exercise (it was only a matter of time, really), and only then do you get to the point.
“Perhaps I could take Revas out for a little? He seems a bit restless—“ Of course he does, you’re paying attention to another hart and not him. “And I could use a bit of fresh air myself.”
“By yourself?” Belassan says, looking concerned. “Ah… Meaning no offense, your riding isn’t exactly…”
“I’ll go slow, and carefully,” you promise. “Revas is a sweetie. He won’t take off unless I ask him too.”
Belassan nods, slowly. “Alright. Don’t go far, however. Mythal only knows what all is out in those woods, and I’d hate to be responsible for anything happening to you. I’d go with you myself, only…”
“You’re very busy,” you finish for him with a smile. “Taking care of all of these harts single-handedly. I understand. Perhaps another time? For now, Revas and I could both use the exercise.”
Belassan watches as you saddle Revas up, making sure you do it correctly (you do), and sees you off before getting back to his duties. You’re elated… You can’t believe you actually managed to talk the Dalish man into letting you take off with Revas. Is he an idiot? You could charge off now with an incredibly valuable creature. But you suppose that’s unlikely—where would you go with just a hart, after all? Still, it seems overly trusting to you. You are, however, more than willing to take advantage of that kind of an honest nature, and you quickly head out across the bridge of Skyhold.
You actually make it a little ways out into the forest before realizing you’re being followed. Not subtly, either… A glance behind you and you see Iron Bull on his wall of a horse, riding to catch up. When he sees you spot him, he waves cordially. Fuming, you wave back. Son of a horned bitch… He must have seen you leaving the stables. Damnit, goddamnit, stramaledetto, fils de pute…
“Where you off to, kid?” Iron Bull says once he’s within shouting distance. His cheerful expression doesn’t lighten your mood one bit. Just because you’ve been getting all friendly with him and some of the other residents of Skyhold doesn’t suddenly mean they’re not a threat to you, and this is an unpleasant reminder of just how tricky the Ben-Hassrath is.
“Just going for a ride,” you say, not letting your dark mood show through in your voice. It had to be Bull, too… Anyone else you could hope to lose or overpower. Well, he’s not a mage, or a Templar, so you can at least relax your grip on the chaos. You had slept exposed around him once before, when you’d had that “episode.” If he hadn’t found you out then, he wasn’t likely to do so now. But it still kept you from doing anything visible.
“By yourself? Not the smartest thing you’ve ever done,” he chides.
“I’ve traveled alone my entire life, Bull,” you say with a sigh. “Worst case scenario, I can climb a tree.” You turn Revas and head into the woods, with Bull following along behind. Cautiously, you let your control loosen, let yourself unclench and relax a little at a time. The slow release is difficult—it’s been locked up a very long time—but you manage it. And, of course, Bull utterly fails to notice. Small blessing, considering it’s now whipping around and begging to be used. That’s something you certainly can’t do in front of Bull. If he wasn’t here…
You sigh.
“Bull, I’ll be honest with you.” Haha. Sure. “I sleep better outdoors. A life of traveling, you know? You know I’ve been having trouble sleeping… I came out here to try and catch a few hours of rest.”
“So, you came outside of Skyhold… to sleep in the woods?” Iron Bull says incredulously. “The woods. Where there could be bears and bandits.”
You could have perfectly well handled that if he wasn’t here. But instead of saying that, you just sort of shrug. “We’re still close to Skyhold. How likely am I to run into either of those things, really? I know the Inquisition sends out patrols… One of them spotted the group I was with and escorted us in. I doubt they’re just out there keeping an eye out for refugees, right?”
“Still seems like a stupid risk just to get some sleep.”
You level an acidic stare at him. “Spoken like a man whose only sleep-deprivation has been out of fear or need. When you genuinely cannot sleep, it’s not something you can brush aside that casually. Either way, unless leaving Skyhold for a nap has suddenly become a punishable offense, I still intend to do it.”
Iron Bull rolls his eye dramatically, no doubt mocking your tendency to do the same. “Fine. But I’m keeping an eye on you. Can you imagine what Leliana would do to me if you did get eaten by a bear?”
He has a point, one you can’t argue with. Even if you could, it would look strange if you did. You merely give him an appreciative smile and continue along until you get to an appropriate looking clearing. It’s close enough to Skyhold that you can justify it being safe. Not exactly the kind of place you’d go were you alone, but it’ll do for your purposes. The Inquisition doesn’t seem to use Templars or mages for things so routine as patrols… With just Iron Bull here, you should be safe to sleep, at least.
It will help your exhaustion. It won’t help you be rid of the ever-growing restlessness that demands use. But you still won’t say no to the prospect of a few hours of genuine sleep. You tie Revas to a tree and sink down into the grass.
“Are you seriously just going to sleep in the middle of a meadow?” Iron Bull interjects. “Pff… elves.”
“Well, with you watching out for me, nothing bad could possibly happen,” you say with a scowl. “So I might as well be comfortable. Otherwise, I could sleep in a tree.”
You dislike sleeping in front of people. You always have. Who doesn’t? Even Solas put wards down when he fell asleep in his study that one time. Despite that, however, and despite the whipping of your power around you, finally loose from its containment, you drift into sleep almost instantly. Your dreams are strained and stressful; you have nightmares of your time in Seheron. Despite horrific imagery that might jolt you awake on another night, you remain unconscious. That’s just how tired you are, how much you’ve been lacking for proper sleep.
When you finally do awake, the sun is beginning to set over the horizon. Your body feels fantastic… Even a few hours of sleep has helped your physical exhaustion immensely. On the intangible side of things, however, you’re even worse. Your power is so desperate to be spent that your fingertips are actually hot to the touch. It takes several long minutes to lasso it all back together and wrap it up neatly inside you for the journey back to Skyhold. You can feel it in there, red-hot and angry. This can’t go on much longer.
Once it’s secure, you sit up. Iron Bull is leaning against a tree, sharpening a long greatsword that gives you chills just to look at. A giant weapon for a giant man… If you saw Bull coming at you with that on a battlefield, you’d turn tail and run, no question. You suppose that’s the point.
“You’re a damn lively sleeper,” Iron Bull reports. “Also, you snore.”
“I do not!” you protest.
“Well, it’s more of a… whine-snort than a proper, manly snore, I suppose, but-“
“Oh, shut up. We should get back to Skyhold before it gets dark. I… appreciate you taking the afternoon off just to babysit me, Bull, even if it was unnecessary.”
“Anything to keep you from going off the edge again,” Iron Bull says with a grin. “I finally healed up from last time.”
It’s a joke, but the reminder makes you cringe a little bit. In the state you’re in now, losing it in that manner would end much, much badly for both you and Bull. You wish these people knew how much they’re risking—how much they’re making you risk—just by not leaving you the fuck alone.
After the two of you put your mounts back in the stables, and you’ve attended to Revas to your satisfaction, you and Iron Bull head to the mess together. You try to eat, you really do… But with everything wrapped up inside you, raging and twisting, you’ve simply no appetite—in fact, you feel slightly nauseous. You pick at your food, and when Bull comments, use the large meal with the Chargers as an excuse for your lack of hunger. It should work… you skip meals often enough for people to think you don’t eat much, although in fact, given access to a constant supply of food, you’d probably never stop eating.
Thea frets over you, telling you that overworking, but your brush her concerns off as best you can without coming across as rude. You head with her back towards the library, parting ways in front of the rotunda despite her obvious displeasure that you’re just heading back to work. You sit down at your desk, frustration growing. There has to be some place in this castle where you can be alone enough to get rid of this… But you suspect your window for a controlled burn has passed. Now, the slightest spark will likely result in a wildfire, metaphorically speaking. This can’t be within the walls of Skyhold. You have to get out. But you’ve no chance of sneaking across that long bridge at night… Even if you managed to get out, getting in would be an impossibility.
It will have to wait until tomorrow.
With that in mind, you do your best to focus on your work. The long nap allows you to work long into the night, which helps cope for the fact you’re working more slowly. You manage to get a decent amount done before your eyes grow tired enough that you flop down on the couch. You don’t drag the blanket on, however… at this point, sleeping will only make things worse.