DaD Bod
As if to emphasize the problem, during the afternoon ride Sera starts inserting herself between you and Alas’len as much as possible. Physically, in some cases, something that’s helped along by that practically-a-pony horse she rides. But you keep Revas a certain distance away from other mounts for a reason, and by the second time you have to muscle him away from clocking her horse in the head, you’re absolutely sick of it.
You remind yourself several times that it’s your fault she’s like this, and that clearly you need to find some way to make breaking up stick. Why would she think this time was any different, when you’ve told her “no” a hundred times and then gone right back to kissing her?
Now you’re thinking about kissing her, which isn’t helping.
At first, you try to compensate by paying more attention to Alas’len, but it’s difficult since you’re still mad at him. Then you try paying more attention to Solas, but he’s still very obviously curious about Alas’len. Conversations just keeps turning in that direction. You suppose you should have seen that coming. He was interested in you because you were the most interesting puzzle around. Now he has a new one. That should relieve you, but instead the knowledge sits bitter in your chest… probably because Alas’len’s secrets are as much yours to keep as your own; they’re impossibly intertwined.
“That’s fascinating,” you say, barely resisting the urge to do so through gritted teeth, in response to some remarkable new facet of Alas’len’s history. A lot of the facts he knows about these ruins and this history, he knows from you. The rest, you taught him how to learn… but you can’t just go around flaunting all that knowledge the way Alas’len and Solas do. It’s like neither of these idiots even understand how to keep oneself inconspicuous! Doesn’t Solas understand how much he’s giving away to Alas’len? Doesn’t Alas’len understand how much he’s giving away to Solas?! Meanwhile, you and Sera are just sort of stuck in the middle of what’s rapidly becoming nerdy bisexual foreplay. And clearly, this irritates Sera as much as it does you, albeit for wildly different reasons.
“Everyone’s always so interested in this stupid, pointless shite,” she grumbles, apparently having once again forgotten that the “stupid, pointless shite,” she hates is your job. You’re almost used to it at this point. “Doesn’t it bother anyone,” she says, although you note she’s directing it at Alas’len, “tryin’ t’live up t’this pointless, stupid history that doesn’t even exist anymore if it ever did? Just a bunch of dead bodies an’ dust and that’s what yer supposed to be? If that’s yer finish line, you’ll always be a failure!”
Your irritation at the two men makes a sharp and immediate redirection to Sera, who you’ve just remembered is also annoying the piss out of you lately. You have to quite literally bite your tongue to stop the barbed retort that had been ready to spit itself out. You can’t just get defensive of this random guy. But internally, you’re seething. His expression is cheerful as always and he’s already gamely replying something you can’t hear over the rush of blood in your ears. He doesn’t have tells; neither do you, hopefully, although Solas—the only one who’s looking at you—would probably assume your anger due to the repeated insults to your interests and career.
He doesn’t know it’s a sore spot. She doesn’t know that either, although she’d probably be fucking delighted to know.
He wouldn’t appreciate you getting defensive. You also shouldn’t be defensive of a random guy you just met. You have to keep your mouth shut, no matter how much you’d like to stop strong-arming Revas and just let him clock her in the head. Stupid. Insensitive. No way of knowing. Shouldn’t have fucking said it anyway.
You have nothing to do but stew in your own undirectable anger.
By the time you stop for the day, all you want is to be left alone. You’re bristling with unspoken insults and a lot of physical tension in your back and shoulders from yanking Revas away from giving Sera’s mount a serious injury, over and over, all afternoon.
There are, unfortunately for you, at least two people present who can pick up on your bad moods without fail, and one of them swoops in, in a fashion only he could.
“Ah, I recognize this oasis,” Alas’len says cheerfully, dipping a hand into the clean waters of the smallish pond. “There is another, larger one nearby.”
“Are you suggesting we make for that one instead?” the Inquisitor asks.
Alas’len shakes his head. “No, it’s surrounded by large boulders and completely unsuitable for watering mounts or refilling barrels. We are best served here. However, it does have something this one does not: fish.”
You perk up at this, as he surely knew you would. “Oh, I absolutely have some twine we could use to make fishing rods.” You slide off of Revas and begin rummaging through his saddlebags. “Hold on, I’ve got a pouch here, let’s see if any of those rocks have bait hiding underneath.”
“Hold on!” the Seeker protests. “Just the two of you?”
“It’s quite a safe journey,” Alas’len informs her. “But I’m sure we would be delighted to have you join us, Seeker. When one is intending to slip around getting wet, it’s quite a case of the more the merrier.”
You try not to snort into your saddlebag. Leave it to him to make it sound as unappealing to her as possible.
“That’s quite… alright…” she says, sounding as disgusted as you’d expect.
“Someone else can take care of the mounts for once,” you say, finally yanking out your twine. “I could use some fun, and I’m sure Alas’len can take care of anything we might come across while skirting across some empty sand.”
“Still…” the Seeker muses.
“I’m not exactly helpless myself,” you posit. “I’ve been training with the Inquisitor himself. If anything attacks us, I shall beat it to death with my fishing rod.” You gesture towards Alas’len, who’s already breaking off saplings to use as rods.
“I think it’s his rod she’s worried about,” Blackwall says with a good-natured snort. “And the two of you coming back with no fish whatsoever.”
The Seeker’s ears begins to turn red, although from what precise emotion, you’re not quite sure. “That’s not what I…”
“I’m sure some fish will managed to get speared,” the Inquisitor adds with a chuckle, and for once you’re glad of their mildly disgusting innuendo. Sera is visibly fuming, but she makes no move to stop the two of you, for once. Possibly because you’re not the only one looking; others are glancing over at her and doing a poor job of hiding their curiosity. It seems your would-be love triangle is a subject of some interest; perhaps Sera is tired of humiliating herself by chasing after you. It’s not as if you’re worth chasing. And if she’d just give up on you already, there’d be no need for you to humiliate her like this. You keep that justification firmly in mind, so you can have it instead of the knowledge that it feels satisfying because you’re still mad at her.
“If either of you want to come and ensure we actually bring home dinner,” you say, letting some ice creep into your voice. You don’t want to make it easy for the rumor mill, knowing that it’ll keep turning regardless of your actions. “You’re more than welcome.” Of course, you only say that because Solas is out of earshot, working on setting up tents some distance away under shade of an awkward-shaped, gnarly tree. You’re certain he would have positively leapt at the chance to spend some quality time with his new puzzle.
“Normally, I would say yes to a good bit of fishing,” Blackwall says, rubbing his beard. “But normally I would say no to being the fifth cart wheel, so…”
“Someone has to stay to take care of the mounts, in any case,” the Inquisitor adds.
You smile thinly. “Then we shall return with a string full of fish, and you can eat them as well as your words.” You turn to Alas’len. “Let’s see this oasis of yours, then.”
The two of you set out quickly across the sands, although the pace is mostly due to your desire to get away from Solas, Sera, the Seeker, and anyone else who might decide it’s a bad idea to let the linguist and the strange mage they just met wander off alone. Honestly… if you got kidnapped, they’d deserve it. You’d halfway expected the Seeker to absolutely refuse to let you alone; her expression had clearly showed she’d wanted to. Perhaps she wised up, for once, in the face of your constant rebukes, and actually managed to keep in mind that you are an adult woman and not a toddler eyeing a hot stove. Or perhaps you don’t have as good a straight face as you thought, and more people than just Alas’len have noticed how ready you are to take your temper out on someone, anyone.
“It’s just the two of us out here,” Alas’len comments as you stalk over the sands together. “You can relax.” He gestures towards you, vaguely. “You must be exhausted, keeping it in all the time.”
“It’s second nature to stay like this,” you say with a shrug. “Besides… if no one winds up spying on us, I’ll be shocked. It’s not like anyone particularly trusts you, and I skirt the borders of trust, myself. Not doing myself any favors with this,” you gesture between Alas’len and yourself, “either.”
“And yet you seemed more than desperate,” he points out, sounding amused.
“I was. I’m sick of—” you catch yourself just short of venting about Sera. “…I’m just sick of it all. I’ve been alone with these people for too damn long. We can’t get to that desert fast enough.”
“Oh?”
“I told you, didn’t I? They’re sending me out to bargain with some dragon scholar. I’m sure the actual fighters will go off to do whatever Warden-adjacent bullshit they’re actually here for, and I’ll be left alone to talk to scholars and dig through sand-filled ruins. I’m sick of being around the lot of them.”
“If you loathe them so, you could simply leave.” With him, is the invisible phrase dangling off the end there. Leave with him, and go back home… Or to Halamshiral, perhaps, given how blown your Val Royeaux cover is.
“It’s not that I loathe them,” you say with a sigh. “You’ve been around them for a bit now; you see what they’re like. They’re an interesting lot, and I really am quite fond of Cole—we need to talk about him, by the way—it’s just… too much, being dragged across Orlais at this pace. And this close vicinity. At Skyhold, I had my own space. To think I used to think Leliana was annoying with how she bothered me.” You can’t help but laugh. “I didn’t realize how good I had it. No one ever came into that rotunda, and Solas was always too busy with his own shit to pester me. Maker, if I make it back again, I’ll never complain about her missives and his grumbling stomach ever again.”
“Ah, that explains why you’ve been sharing a workspace with him.”
“…You knew…? Ah, I’m being stupid. Of course you knew. The old man.”
“Didn’t you recognize him? He’s one of our best.”
You shake your head. “No, not at first. He’s done a good job of making himself look sun-weathered. I really just thought he was a damned gardener, at first glance.”
“Good. If you didn’t make him, the Spymistress’ men don’t stand a chance,” Alas’len says, sounding satisfied.
“They’d better fucking not,” you grumble. “If your curiosity gets me killed, lethallin, I will haunt the shit out of you.”
“I needed a way to get news out, and you needed a way to get news to me,” Alas’len points out, pouting. “It was only out of pure concern for your well-being that I sent an expert where a novice would have otherwise done.”
“Well my thanks for your pure concern,” you say, voice dripping sarcasm. “I’m so glad that not getting me killed was a priority.”
“I was wondering if the feeling was mutual,” he says, tilting his head back to stare at a single cloud drifting across the empty desert sky. “Before I saw your hands on those daggers behind that Seeker.” He laughs, sounding genuinely amused. “You were so ready to stab her.”
“I’m always at least thirty percent ready to stab her,” you mutter under your breath, glad that your face wrap covers the way your cheeks redden. “Did you seriously think I’d leave you hung out to dry?”
“How could I know what to think, lethallin?”
“What could you do that would make me that cross?” you grumble. “Is there something I don’t know about? Is it worse than what you’re doing with Dirth’len?”
“For fuck’s sake, do you have to make it sound like that?”
“Yes, if only so that I can numb myself to the inevitability.”
“I am capable of keeping it in my pants, you know.”
“You are?”
“You are throwing far too many stones straight through your house of glass. Or did you wish to forget the real reason you were desperate to get away? That blonde couldn’t get more obnoxious if she was actively trying. Which I’m unconvinced she’s not.” There’s the irritation in his voice. You knew her senseless barb had found blood.
“Is it about the soldiers?” you muse, continuing the sniping competition. He wouldn’t appreciate comfort, anyway. “Were you worried I’d switched loyalties, and be upset about the slaughter? Perhaps that’s why you did it.”
“Oh, try not to flatter yourself,” he grumbles. “As if I’d kill six men just to get your attention.”
“You’re right, how silly of me. You’d kill five, tops.”
“Did you even look into it?”
“What did you expect me to do, break into the Spymistress’ quarters for answers?”
“Kind of, yes.”
Alright, that’s actually fair. “Well, no such luck. As I recall, I was too busy getting pulverized around that time.” You see a flash of anger in Alas’len’s eyes, but you know it’s reserved for the dead man who’d done the pulverizing. “So, if it had nothing to do with me, why? Was it a message to the Inquisition, then?”
“Very much so. Tell me, lethallin, what could a unit of soldiers in your city do to prompt such a reaction?”
Probably about a million things, if you’re being perfectly honest, such as being a unit of soldiers in your city. Usually you left that sort of thing to the Chevaliers, but at the same time, there’s a lot that a man can get up to in Val Royeaux that not a single Chevalier would care about. You’re willing to bet it was one of those.
“Generally, to leave a message, you need to leave a messenger,” you point out. “Not a pile of corpses.”
“None of them deserved to live,” he says with a shrug.
“That bad, huh… woman, child, or animal?”
“A couple, if you can believe the depravity of it,” he says, spitting the words out onto the sand as if they taste of filth even crossing his tongue. “I couldn’t even be surprised when I heard what happened to you, given the kind of people the Inquisition appears to be employing.”
“Maker’s balls, a couple? Where, in the Alienage?”
“Nearby it. Apparently, the soldiers took to drink, then to whistling, and the man took an exception to their behavior. They proceeded to take an exception to his exception.”
“Thank fuck you were there,” you say with a long exhale. You can see the rocks of the oasis on the horizon now.
“Drunk soldiers are always bad news, and these were from the army you’d taken off with. Of course I was keeping an eye on them. And a good thing too, the filth.”
“Did you leave any indication of why you’d killed them, or did you just decide to declare war with the Inquisition?” you ask dryly.
“A why would give them more than they need about motivations and techniques. Given your location…”
“Fair enough. They already asked me a few questions after the Qunari situation. Last thing they need is more strings to tie me up with. Does this oasis actually have fish in it?”
“Yes, not that I expect you’ll be able to catch any.”
“I’m sorry we can’t all be fishmasters, serah,” you say dryly. You know better than to rise to his bait; any bet based on the number of fish caught will end with him the victor. “But you’ll be eating those words the next time we have to gather toads.”
“I cannot imagine another scenario that requires us to catch toads. I’m astounded it even happened once.”
It’s easy to fall into such companionable banter with him, and you playfully bicker your way across the desert. The one nice thing about the desert: it’s quite flat. At least you don’t have to worry about anyone being close enough to eavesdrop. There’s simply nothing to hide behind.
The oasis itself is craggy and requires some climbing to find a comfortable position to fish from. Alas’len sets up, and you set to digging around rocks for live bait. You have a real knack for picking good rocks, and a few victory yells later, you and Alas’len have a squirming bag full of bugs and lizard tails. The kind that grow back, obviously; you’re not a monster. Well. Not that kind, anyway.
The sun is still burning hot even as it lowers towards the horizon, but the two of you find the shade of a palm tree to hide in while you struggle to find comfortable positions on the rocks. You feel a bit like a lizard, baking on a desert rock, but you gain anything but strength from the burning heat. Thank the Maker for Solas’s miracle mixture. You feel like you’re getting darker every single day—perhaps soon you’ll match Alas’len’s shade, ha—but you haven’t felt the pain of a burn since he slathered you from head to toe.
Despite your reservations about how possible it would be to catch fish, however, you both quickly begin getting bites. Your fishing rods are far from code, but every time your rod begins to bow with the pull of a fish, Banal’ras grabs the twine and sends a little jolt down it. Easy to catch fish when every bite hooked becomes a sure thing. You yank up every fish, using the small ones as bait for bigger prey.
You’re setting up a string from tree to tree to hang your catches up to dry on when you see something on the horizon. You squint, then frown. Looks like your instincts about keeping your aura tucked safely inside while “alone” were absolutely on the nose… as were your instinct about Solas and his proclivities.
“Look… company,” you say, nudging Alas’len with your foot so he’ll turn to look. He does, glancing over his shoulder, and grins.
“Ah… your curious little friend,” he says, sounding delighted. You’re far from it, yourself, and scowl at both him and Solas’s approaching form.
“I knew he’d fucking follow us, I swear to the Maker.”
“Don’t appreciate him being protective? Or perhaps jealous?”
“Oh please. The Seeker is protective and Sera is jealous. He’s not following me out here,” you grumble. “He’s like a cat with a new toy. He’s probably already forgotten I even exist.”
That, of course, only make Alas’len’s smile grow. Of course, he doesn’t have the good sense to be worried about Solas’s dogged attention. You, however, know exactly just how determined Solas can be, and don’t care one bit for the idea of Alas’len being subject to that kind of scrutiny.
“How boring has it gotten at camp,” you call out when you think Solas is close enough to hear, “That you decided fishing was the more interesting alternative?”
“Significantly,” Solas replies amicably. “Although it seems my assistance here wasn’t required either. That’s quite a few fish you have already.”
“We’ve got a lot of hungry mouths to feed,” you say with a shrug. “Everyone must be as sick and tired of road rations as I am, at this stage.”
“It’s not as if this oasis sees a lot of action,” Alas’len adds. “If anything, we’re doing nature a favor by weeding out the biggest predators.”
You really want to know how he knows any of this, or if he’s just making it up as he goes. If this is an established identity of his, it’s not one you’ve ever met before now. You can’t ask that now that Solas is here, though.
“Climb up,” Alas’len tells Solas. “And snap off a rod from somewhere.”
“I’ve got some more twine you can use,” you say, slightly less cheerfully. This isn’t the first time you’ve had to beat boys off of Alas’len with a stick—both literally and metaphorically—but you haven’t even figured out how to get Solas off of your case.
Solas rolls up his sleeves and climbs up the rocks with the practiced ease you’ve come to expect from him. Alas’len’s eyebrows go up at the sight, however, and he glances between you and Solas a few times while Solas is distracted, mouthing any number of inappropriate things your direction. You roll your eyes and ignore his antics. Yes, Solas is fit for his age. Yes, it’s extremely distracting. It’s a little nice to be validated, but the reality of having Solas and Alas’len in the same place is too stressful for you to enjoy it.
You reach down to give Solas a hand to scramble onto the top of the rocks. His hand is warm in yours, lightly calloused and sandy. Long fingers wrap around the back of your hand; his weight as you pull him up with your recently regained strength feels good. Despite your grumpiness at having your alone time with Alas’len interrupted, you can’t help but smile.
“I hope you’re good, because he’s been out-fishing me two to one. Maybe if we team up, we can beat him.”
Solas raises an eyebrow. “It’s a competition?”
“Everything’s a competition if I can win at it. Come on, find a fishing rod.”
You manage to get Solas set up with twine and a twisted hairpin for a hook. “Alas’len, show him your lightning trick,” you suggest as you settle down between them like a chaperone. The rocks are still warm from the day’s heat, a fact you’re becoming appreciative of as the sun begins to lower on the horizon.
“I’m surprised you’re not protesting the use of magic as cheating,” Solas says, and you shrug.
“It’s not cheating if he’s doing it for me too. Besides, like I said, we’ve got a lot of mouths to feed, and it’s not like we’re made of spare time. Competition comes second to making sure we just get enough fish to make Blackwall and the Inquisitor eat their words.”
“It seems as though you can no more than be alone with a man before the rumor mill begins,” Solas agrees. “Although—”
“Don’t start,” you warn him. “I’ll kick your ass if you start in on me.”
“I would never! I was simply going to comment on how quickly your friendship sprung up.”
“We’re not friends,” you say, gesturing between you and Alas’len.
“I am wounded!” he interrupts dramatically, clutching his chest.
“I just wanted to go fishing, ” you continue, ignoring him. “But he is rapidly becoming the least annoying person around. And that’s speaking more to my irritation at everyone else than it is his general likability.”
“You are an absolute charm and delight to be around,” Alas’len says dryly.
“Isn’t she just?” Solas agrees. You squint at him, trying to detect sarcasm, but honestly can’t tell. Fortunately, your conversation is interrupted by a bite on Solas’s line, and then general chaos as Alas’len lunges across your lap to grab the line and send a shock of lightning down it. The fish ceases struggling immediately, and he helps Solas pull it up, half sprawled across you.
“Just a little jolt will do it,” he advises Solas sagely.
“By all means, get comfortable,” you say dryly, which only causes him to roll over onto his back and do just that. You respond in the most reasonable way possible, by shoving him off your lap and towards the water. He teeters comically, particularly because you know he could catch himself easily. It’s less comic when he grabs the front of your shirt and yanks you off balance, sending both of you flailing into the air and down into the oasis below with a dramatic splash.
The water is as cool and refreshing as the water had been in the oasis you’d dipped in before. There’s just a lot more of it. You’ll definitely have to move to a new spot for fishing after this, but that’s a minor consideration in your mind as Alas’len surfaces first. Revenge glinting in your eyes, you swim up behind him and burst out of the water, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and dragging him back under.
“Alas!” he splutters, mouth half full of water as the two of you wrestle at the surface. “I’ve been captured by a kelpie! Your help, good sir!”
“There is no such thing as a kelpie,” Solas calls out helpfully. “Such reports were simply corpses of the drowned possessed by demons.”
“Oh, because that’s so much less scary!” Alas’len yells back.
“Shall I move to a new section of oasis?” Solas asks dryly.
“Unless you want to dive in and join us,” you suggest, trying to get your legs around Alas’len’s under the water only to get kicked off. He’s in his element here, so you’re lucky you got around his neck to begin with.
“I’m fairly sure Emma is not the only thing in that water that might want revenge. You did say the fish we were catching were predators, yes?”
“Oh, it’s fine, you big baby,” you say with a scoff. “We’re bigger.”
“If they bite us, we can simply grab them, and voila, free fish,” Alas’len suggests, and you nod.
“That’s an actual fishing method up in Par Vollen, or so I’ve heard. You should ask Iron Bull about it sometime,” you advise Solas.
“Iron Bull?” Alas’len asks, and you mentally give him a pat for remembering his cover so naturally.
“Tal-Vashoth mercenary that works with the Inquisition,” you tell him. “Nice enough guy; nicer than you’d think, anyway.”
“Are you two intending to stay down there?” Solas wonders.
“No,” you admit reluctantly. “We should probably get some more fish before we dick off… Oh! Alas’len, if I grab a fish, can you electrocute it?”
“Not without also electrocuting you and also myself. We are in the water.“
“…Alright, fair point,” you say with a sigh. “Yeah, I guess we’re coming up.”
The two of you scramble back up the rocks, and, along with Solas, you head to a new fishing spot. You continue to have pretty solid luck, fortunately, and before too terribly long, you have several full strings of good sized fish. With two mages, one of whom is also a practiced hand at fishing, the fish honestly didn’t stand a chance.
“Any more and I think we’re not going to be able to carry them back without dragging them through the sand,” you say with a laugh, balancing half-on and half-off a rock with the help of one hand gripping a tree branch. You’re admiring your catch and poorly ignoring your grumbling stomach. “I’m glad you came, Solas.”
“Because he’s a strapping man and can do the heavy lifting for your noodle arms?” Alas’len suggests.
“Just so,” you agree. “Now I do believe we have time for another dip before we trudge back to our smaller, sadder oasis surrounded by smelly warriors.”
“You just got your clothes dry,” Solas protests.
“Easy solution,” Alas’len says, stripping his shirt off and tossing it haphazardly into a tree before falling backwards into the water. You laugh and pull off your loose tunic before diving in after him.
“Come on, Solas!” you yell after you break the surface. Not just because you want to see him take his shirt off.
“I’m quite fine up here. The sun is setting, and it will be cold soon,” he advises.
“Coward,” you say with a scoff.
“Oh, do be nice, Emma,” Alas’len says. “He’s old. The cold might sink into his bones.”
You laugh, and try to splash up at Solas, but the rocks are too high for it to even come close. “Suit yourself, hahren! I’m going to see if there are any crabs in here.”
“I hope you’re better at crabbing then you are at fishing,” Alas’len comments.
“I am,” you reply snootily. “If it’s under a rock, I can catch it.”
“She really can,” Solas adds. “Be careful.”