Work Text:
She had a free moment before storming the tomb, the Iron Bull and his Chargers were busy clearing debris blocking the entrance. Other times, Ixchel would have helped them, but with so many hands onboard she’d have gotten in the way of their work. Instead she chooses to take the moment for herself and keep company with one of the many wolf statues that stand guard over the resting place of their beloved Emerald Knights.
She had passed many of them in her time exploring the ruins of Thedas, this was the first moment she had to fully admire them.
“The Emerald Knights once patrolled the borders of the Dales, protecting the Elven people. The Dalish saw them as romantic heroes. The Chantry called them ruthless butchers.” Solas spoke, hands behind himself. He flickers his eyes about the statue, hoping to take in any little bit of hidden history to this majestic wolf.
“They were once proud warriors, protectors of their people,” Ixchel brushes her hand across the stone fur of the statue, each unique in their dedication to their knight. A scar can be felt indented into this one, perhaps from protecting their partner. A smile slowly forms on her lips as spoke, “at least that’s how I want to remember them being. What do you know of their story?”
Solas had a smile when investigating the same scar. “I have seen Spirits reenact many of their adventures in the Fade. Romanticized as they may be, to have Spirits construct such breathtaking vistas tells much of what they’ve accomplished.”
“You see the Knights as being romanticized?” her brows were raised, curious of where his dismissal originates.
Solas tilts his head to the ruins they were about to explore, their walls and stories have stood the trials of nature and time. Many statues stood untouched by conflict, yet the features showing the warriors being honored eroded and the plagues rusted over. Their waking world had forgotten much of the history recorded here.
“Does this courtyard not tell you what they really were?” his nose crinkled as his eyes passed over the loss that had been dealt. “The Dalish tell their story of noble warriors protecting their people from trespassing humans, yet we stand atop their Ruins.”
“Do you feel guilty over their downfall?"
“Perhaps,” his eyes did a slow fluttering blink. H is hands dug deeper into his staff.
There was an unending amount of what-if’s he parsed through, so much has happened to the Elven people since he had fallen into his long slumber. A new kingdom had been formed and fallen. What he did for his People was necessary, that cannot be doubted, but for them to have so much less than they were supposed to… There was no end to the regret he felt for having so much time pass him.
“Tell me one of their tales,” her eyes gave Solas an earnest glaze.
“Would this be the wisest use of our time?” He raises a brow.
“It could just be a way to pass the time,” Ixchel shrugged her shoulders. “Would you prefer getting cozy with their entire crowd?” She points to the Chargers band and Sera digging through the stone.
“I see your point,” he chuckles, lowering himself to the base of the statue, he recounts one of many battles he saw in the Fade. “Rajmael was a great elven general during the Exalted March on the Dales, in one losing battle he and his wolf routed the whole Orlesian army away to Forlorn Falls away from the rest of his troops. Where he leaps to his death, along with the enemy general.”
Ixchel’s brows pitched up at the ending of the tale, “that wasn’t what I was expecting to hear as a story before diving into their tomb.”
Solas wore a self-satisfied grin, “perhaps not but that is how history remembers him. The truth is that he survived his tumble. He was broken but his battle continued in a different capacity.”
She gives a swift blink, “I’m getting the sense that there’s some hero worship here.”
“Does it distract from the story? It is still one such tale that spirits hold cherish, as with many other noble deeds recounted,” Still grinning, he picks himself up with his staff awaiting the battle to come.
“The Chargers are waiting for your signal now, Boss.” Bull flexes his chest, picking his ax off his shoulders. “Good to see that you’ve taken the time to rest.”
“It didn’t seem like you needed the extra hands,”
“Nah. We definitely had things covered. Just glad to see you looking after yourself,” Bull sneers a toothy smirk at the door, anticipating a fight to happen, “just don’t lose your concentration.”
Ixchel steadied her sword, the chromatic sword’s edge ignited with a prismatic shine when it hit the sun. It was a regal artifact, not many still existed Thedas now.
There would be another time for exploration. The threat of the Red Templar invaders had to come first. Even as cornered as she was able to get, it will be a long fight. Corner animals will be more vicious.
Through the uneven step at the corner of her ears, she hears on the skimmers with sharpened red lyrium for hands.
Ixchel conjures energy from the Fade, forcing her body to walk a path outside of their physical world. For a moment, her form disappeared, her steps were light as an amalgam of energy traveled took her place. She reappears behind the corrupted knight, one slash from her sword ends the threat.
The Chargers followed behind where she was, breaking the larger ones that kept them from proceeding. Two elves recently joined to help them, Dalish elves from her own clan. A brother and sister team pull down a Red Templar Behemoth by their chain for Krem’s hammer to crush the lyrium growths into its head.
Taliesen is brought here to investigate the tomb, she studied numerous ruins filled with arcane traps and armed with the knowledge to disarm them. Lex is a recent addition to the Chargers, a heavy hitter for a mage, there’s always a place for another sword arm in the Chargers.
Krem takes a moment to breathe and regains his energy from the exertion needed to topple the beast. Suddenly seeing the Inquisitor walk by causes him to straighten himself.
“All in a day's work for the Chargers. Ma’am,” he gives a stiff salute.
Ixchel nods, “fine work as always.”
She marched further into the tomb. Descenting deeper down the steps of the memorial halls where the Emerald Knights honored their warriors. Now the walls have been reclaimed by nature, stone pillars that once held up the ceiling of their base have eroded away and fungus has overtaken the walls. Trees rooted themselves between the stones, splitting them apart. Their party was light footed with every step, as to not trip and be off guard for their foes. Or fall into other regions taken by flooding.
Yet even in ruins, there was still much to admire. An owl of Falon’din greeted their entry. The vestibule was once a shining beacon for the bravest amongst the elves. A place to welcome its guests inside its decorated stone arches and the All-Mother of the Elven Pantheon stood. Many walls still held the paintings that celebrated their Knights of the Dales. Noble warriors going into battle and their painted halla.
Were it another simpler time, she'd spend every moment here looking into every last crevice for all their secrets and carry them like treasures back with her. The watchful eyes of Mythal and Falon’Din might carry something she had yet seen.
The halls had also been littered with many abandoned texts, too many for the Elves to carry when they were driven out. One of which catches the attention of Solas’s eye, it appears to be an account of events from Arlathan. It puts a somber grin to his lips, “the Dalish remember fragments of fragments. I suppose it couldn’t be helped with how much of it now lays buried.”
“We’ve tried to remember as much as possible. It doesn’t mean we could keep track of there was,” the enjoyment that Solas showed at reading a recovered book placed a smile on Ixchel’s lips.
“You’ve certainly remembered more than most would care to,” Solas had his eyes locked on the book, his finger looking to scavenge what pieces of that were nostalgic, “but with time comes retellings of events, details get muddied and events get lost.”
“Is there anything that’s catching your interest?”
“Mostly folklore on how elves lost their immortality. Then their migration…” he continued strolling through the worn down pages until finally he was shaken at where history had suddenly ended for the Dales.
“What’s wrong?” concern has flooded Ichel’s eyes once more.
“My people built a life here… It must have been something to see,” he clenched his jaw, his hand crumpled the parchment and fire threatened to burn it all away. “We should get moving.”
“Agreed,” Ixchel nodded.
Her forces continued advancing deeper into Din’an Hinan, careful to watch every corner for where their foes could hide. They had strength in numbers, but the rubble and crumbled walls made for easy cover. With as much ground they’ve managed to take also gave them time to prepare.
It allowed their behemoth to charge at the Inquisitor, slamming her over the ledge.
“Vhenan!”
“Shite! Inky fell.”
“No time to worry about that. Damned Templars will get us if we do. She can take care of herself.”
The hammering blow knocked Ixchelinto the flooded regions of the tomb. For most people, sinking to the bottom of any abandoned decayed ruin across Thedas would have meant the ruins would have claimed them to be part of their wreckage. The moment her spine collided with the surface of the water reverberated every bone in her body.
But Ixchel was spiteful against most things that had come to end her, much worse had tried to stop her. Once was the child barely able to look up past the plains of grass, years have been spent traversing ruins like this one. Her trials have made stronger, harder to topple with the many scars that marked her victories.
The shock wasn’t enough to, instead she clenched her fists close tightly mustering up the fiery spite to claw herself out of the water. Scuffles with death had never let her rest, not even why tried to force it on herself, she had to keep pushing. Whatever her predicament, she kept pushing. Soon her arms shoved away all the water blocking her path, air now rushes through every muscle in her body, adrenaline pumping through her and burning hotter than a thousand suns.
An explosion can be heard from above. As well as the crunching sound of cracking ice.
“Your sister is going to the end of us too. Tell her to aim those things properly.”
“Think she’d listen? Never calmed her down when stuff gets flying.”
“It’s never worth trying with that hairball. Just learn to dodge.”
“Cheer up Chief. Haven’t seen her aim for your pillowy bosoms yet.”
“That elf’s barely aiming at all, Krem. ”
“Shut up and cut their heads.”
“These aren’t a group of snot nosed nobles. Be careful.”
There was still much fighting above her, she swam to solid land. She takes light steps back up to Solas and the Chargers, peaking every collapsed corner, carefully to make sure that the Red Templars don’t catch her first.
There was a group of three running down a tunnel. Approaching them, she commands her Mark to ball up energy from the Fade. Releasing it with a jab at one of the knights, cracking their armor with mana reforming into sparks of fire igniting their gambeson underneath. Tilting entire self down to avoid another of their blades, she unsheaths her blade to slash through her other two foes. Magic once more imbued the arcane edge with lightning, causing her weapon to glide through her foes in a flashing swipe.
Following the tunnel used by the Templars, she reunions with her companions, Ixchel finds the Dalish arcanist already scrambling away to pick open the inner chamber’s door. Meticulously slotting lyrium and crystalized bits of elements into the keyhole.
“I’m assuming this is where the Templars wanted to be,” she leans her back over the lock to examine the work being done. Seemingly haphazardly placed essence crystals on pin slots of the lock, lyrium was barely a finger's width away from reacting. Her brows knitted together, “are you certain you know what you’re doing?”
Tali was crouched over, tweezers delicately planting bits of magic onto the lock, hoping to trick the magic tied to the door into relinquishing itself. She releases the small drillbit from her teeth to tunnel a hole for her trigger and to speak, “we’re tricking worn out runes losing their incantations, safe is never the right word. You can never be certain with old ruins.”
“True,” Ixchel crossed her arms, a little anxious at the response, tapping her boot, “but I’d prefer not to find another way inside.”
“Relax. Dagna and I have broken enough of these things before,” the arcanist smirks, she drills a hole into the mechanism, sneaking a shard of lyrium inside, causing the mechanism to smoke for a second and a few grimaces.
Then the runic circle activates.
The door opens for the Inquisitor, the humming of magic can be heard from within. Slow scraping of stone sliding across one another rings into their ears and sends a chill to their spines. The deceased warriors that had been slain here had come back to life.
The ones held up by muscles aged into jerky hoarded up and began shambling forward to them. Even barely able to swing a sword to fight or lift a knee to walk to walk, the number made them an unsightly crowd.
Even with an army so uncaring and freakish, she was equally unmoved. Ixchel lets out her battle roar, filling the hearts of the Chargers with an indomitable fire.
Elemental bombs are tossed into the battlefield, igniting the chamber with magic infused explosions, clouding her people in ice vapors and obscuring their enemy’s sight. In the confusion, Bull rushes at the demons, dropping his ax on the limbs, their limbs barely feeling friction on his weapon when ripping them apart, he raises his ax again with a cackling voice as another lot falls. There are two Dalish mages employed by Bull, they are always seen back to back with one another and fireballs are sent flying in every direction.
The mob of minor demons were no match for the Inquisition, until a burst of lightning shot past Ixchel. This demon had large lumbering footsteps as it approached, the sounds of armor clamping haphazardly and the dulled noises of a blunt blade being dragged across the floor can be heard as the Revenant approached.
The enthralled corpse forces its magic onto the ground beneath it, dragging the Ixchel to its knees. Making gurgling sounds as the rusted blade dropped to her head. With a split second to retaliate, slides her arms, the full force of her shoulders flows into her claymore, shattering the Revenant’s blade.
The strike allowed the elf a moment to step back and retreat from the danger. But the battle was yet to be won, tendrils of mana pulled the scattered shards of the beast’s blade back together. Ixchel raises her sword back up to defend.
Just before rushing into battle, Solas and two members of the Chargers join her side.
“Tie it down!” Ixchel shouts as she begins sprinting. With a quick swing and back of his staff, two globes of ice fly at the Revenant’s feet, freezing it in place.
Skinner tosses two of her daggers to stun the Revenant, then her chain to snare it.
“Casser les couilles,” she spat, struggling to hold her foe in place.
It gave Ixchel and Krem enough time to slam down their weapons, crushing the Revenant's head.
From the other side of the room, the two siblings from Clan Lavellan fought the other Revenant. Sera and Taliesen continuously shot it with arrows, disorienting its sense of direction and waiting for the correct moment to retreat.
Lex mutters a prayer for Andruil to guide his sword in this battle, “may his blade be sharp and this hunt be swift.”
His sword ignites with enchanted fire, carving through the heart, and incinerating the reanimated corpse from the inside.
With disintegration of the demon, the siblings bump fists. Their fighting has ended.
Bull lets out a booming laugh with his arms stretched out. “Good work everyone. The Reds never stood a chance. Never a match for the Chargers.”
Lex raises a brow at his captain’s boastful attitude. Crossing his arms, “really? I recall you shivering a few times when we entered here.”
Dalish hangs her arm over Lex’s shoulders, raising a brow as well, “I certainly recall our brave captain hesitating before entering.”
“Simple details,” Bull winks at them, “just needed a moment to take a breather before the boss charged in.”
“No. No,” Skinner looks up from cleaning blood off her daggers, “I’ve definitely remembered you ready shit yourself.”
“Bah!” Their captain scoffs, grumbling off in the other direction to find his lieutenant and his casks, “why do I tolerate the lot of you?”
Sera lets out a long monotonous giggle, watching the Chargers bicker. “Always something to be loud about for the Chargers, yea?” she peaks over Tali’s shoulder, “what’s got your head cramped up a knot?”
Her notes barely legible, writing scribbled onto the margins and rarely paralleling the lines of her journal and doodles scattered everywhere. Taliesen remained focused on her work, raising her thumb to align the statue at the center with other objects, “the University wanted an account of everything I see in this place. It might turn into more of an expedition.”
“Riiiight,” Sera echoes her words, rolling her eyes, “always Miss Brainy Butt writing a bunch of whatevers. Ought to do something about that.” She reaches out for the journal, only to have it swiftly raised out of her reach.
“Not this time. I don’t need more flowers in the margins,” she pouts, pushing her partner away with a finger at her nose.
“Think that’ll stop me?” Sera had an impish smile, her grabby hands continue jumping at the journal as they walk off to do more exploring.
“We now stand in the halls of the honored defenders of the last great Elven kingdom,” Solas wringed his brows closer together, the blunt end of his staff dug deep into moss that now covered the stone floors. A whole civilization lost, scattered, ignorant, and broken, isolated to every corner of Thedas.
“The elves deserved so much more than this. How could anyone not want to fight back against all the injustices that have been done?”
Hearing Solas’s resentment at these ruins does resonate with Ixchel. The hopelessness was a feeling that she knew was too, having to watch so much that has been lost, the halls meant to honor the bravest Elven warriors to have existed had been forgotten and left to be reclaimed by the world as uncaring as nature’s bite.
But instead she lifts up her towards the Chargers. They accepted a member of her clan as one of their own. With them is a bright arcanist, finding a place outside of the isolation with Dalish life. With every push forward that has been made, the world has become brighter.
“Perhaps it can feel hopeless,” she forces shoulders back and spine to straighten. Taking a pause to smile and look at the people that she had brought together, “But what of the work done by everyone here? We wonder about all the things that could have been different. Our world has never been perfect, but it keeps spinning. Time keeps moving forward and we keep making strides to improve.”
For a moment Solas’s weary eyes hold still, not wanting to close himself off of the world as it exists now. But slowly he gets drawn to the elves hired on by the Chargers chatting away, then the two work to unlock the chest embedded into the statue. Sera was someone he felt great pity for, never allowed to experience any wonders that his people once had and yet not one bit of care for that. Yet she had found her own acceptance by others of her kind.
“It’s a well founded point you’ve made,” his lips slowly a grin, somber as it still was, “perhaps there is more to be taken from here than what I credit it for.”