As if things couldnât get any stranger. Zahra had stopped counting the times she was left slack-jawed and speechless. What was the point? Every time something happened she often regrouped in the Heraldâs Rest. Today was no different. Though, as of recent, she felt more like a hapless mother sighing over wine, wondering why such horrible things were happening to her companions. It felt less like an adventure, and more like misfortunes skulking in their shadows, pelting rain on their heads. It wouldâve been more surprising if they managed to catch a break. After rediscovering the eluvianâwhatever that thing truly wasâand vaulting into Rilienâs rookery⊠things stopped making sense.
Had they ever made any sense in the first place? Doubtfully. Relief only came when they reappeared: whole and alive. It was the most important part. Of course, she hadnât seen them. Only heard that yes they werenât dead. It was the only bit of news sheâd wanted to hear. The only one that truly mattered. To her, at least. While the others recuperated elsewhere, she had already sought out Nixium to ask why a shiny, fancy mirror was so important to them. What did eluvian mean? What did it do, anyway? Thin-lipped and perpetually annoyed by her petulant questions, the elven lass still entertained them.
It meant seeingglass in the Dalish tongue. An ancient means of travel. Thought to be lost to them, though there were always traces of ruins, and tales told by their elders and Keepers. Besides that, she knew little. The fact that there was one in Skyhold was baffling enoughâand that someone knew how to use them, even more so.
Sheâd wanted to go see Cyrus and the others, but was promptly turned away. Vague excuses were given. She understood well enough that she was better off turning tail and waiting for one of them to explain what had happened. The Inquisition was a secretive place, and besides⊠even if they did explain what had happened she wasnât sure if she would even understand. As of late, there were things happening that went far beyond anything sheâd ever experienced or seen. How could she understand? It made her feel useless, at times.
A sigh sifted past Zahraâs lips, before she quickly smothered it into her goblet. She took a long dredge of stronger stuff sheâd ordered and her cup back down, casting a glance to her drinking companion, Vesryn. He had joined her soon after theyâd come back from⊠wherever theyâd been, though she hadnât tried to wheedle any information out of him either. Not yet, at least. He always seemed the type to offer it, if it was something she needed to know. She paused for a moment and tilted her head, âSo, what happened to your friends? I hadnât the chance to bother Shae. The little she-devil disappears like a ghost.â She suspected that was on purpose.
âZeth seemed cordial enough.â From what sheâd seen, which wasnât much. They certainly hadnât come into the Heraldâs Rest often. Perhaps, there was an underlying reason for that.
"Don't let him hear you say that," Vesryn chuckled, taking a drink from his cup. "It'll go right to his head." Despite the close call he'd escaped from with the others, who were all varying states of bloody and battered and weary, Vesryn seemed to be in decent spirits. Maybe that was just the drinks. He'd had a few, and currently had his feet kicked up on a stool he'd liberated from underneath the oppression of the bar. Now under his boots.
"They're still around Skyhold, actually. Should be for another month or so. Zeth's been studying his books. Fighting off some sickness at the moment, but it can hardly keep him out of the library. Astraia spends her time with the mages, practicing until she's absolutely spent every day. And Shae, well... she has a knack for staying out of sight. Hard to pin down, that one." He spoke out of significant experience, obviously, and delivered the appraisal with a knowing grin, before he hid his face behind his cup, taking another drink.
After taking another long dredge, Zahra leaned her chin into an upturned palm. She was already feeling the tendrils of warmth spreading in her guts. It was taking her mind off the current events, as it always did. For the time being until everything crashed around her, at least. âGlad theyâre settling in well,â she added with a smile, âNever a dull moment around these parts.â
She blinked at him. Fighting off a sickness? It was the first time she was hearing of thisâthough if he was cooping himself up in the library, it made sense that she wouldnât have seen him. While sheâd often wandered around Skyhold in various states of disarray⊠whenever she stepped foot in the library she was shooed out. Apparently, they didnât like her making a mess of things. Pulling out books and stacking them into disorderly piles; little forts, and pyramid-shapes.
Vesryn didnât look all too worried about it. So, perhaps he was simply fighting off a cold. She hummed a low tune, and tapped her cheek with her fingers, regarding him with semi-lidded eyes, âNot that Iâm complaining about the company. Iâm not. Iâd always much rather drink beside a pretty faceâbut, I donât usually see you drinking⊠quite this much, this early. Did something happen?â
"Something's always happening, isn't it?" He said it with a bit of a grin, though there was some heaviness to the words. Tinged with sadness. "Sometimes there's someone trying to kill your friends, and other times your friends are risking their lives to put things to rights. Some days all of it happens at once." He looked down into the bottom of the cup. "It's more than enough to make a few drinks seem like a reasonable option."
Apparently, it seemed like a reasonable option for the Avenarius twins as well. They were hardly as frequently-seen at the Herald's Rest as the regulars, but they were here now, entering together. Cyrus made immediately for the bar, probably to order something, while for a moment Estella looked after his departure from her side with a solemn, pensive frown. She didn't follow him, though, instead casting her eyes about the room, as though checking to see who was present.
When her eyes alighted on Zahra and Vesryn, she seemed to relax, but only fractionally, and only for a moment. Picking her way through the early-evening crowd, she reached their table and smiled wanly. âI don't suppose the two of you would mind some company?" She glanced once back over her shoulder at Cyrus, but then returned her attention to them. âI... can't promise we'll be at our liveliest, though."
Zahra murmured her assent. Of course, there was a lot of that happening recently. Probably more than she even realized. She only straightened up in her chair when sheâd seen Cyrus and Stel walk through the doors. It wasnât often that she saw them both in one place, at least not here. From the looks of it, their coming here wasnât a particularly happy occasion. There was a tension to Stelâs expression. A solemnness that spoke volumes.
She dropped her hand away from her chin and gestured towards the many empty stools and chairs surrounding them, âThe more, the merrier. No one should drink alone.â
Certainly not with those heavy shoulders.
"The Captain's got that right," Vesryn agreed. "Have a seat."
Stel took a chair, sighing in a way that seemed to be involuntary. She sounded tired. âThe truth is, I'm really only here to look after Cyrus. He..." She was quiet for a long moment, glancing down at the table between them. She folded her hands atop it, but just as soon seemed to think better of it and dropped one back into her lap. The other thumb rubbed at a water-stain in the wood, like she was trying to get it out. She grimaced, and lifted her eyes back to them with what seemed like great difficulty.
âI'm going to tell you something important. But... I need it to stay between us. He needs it to. ...If that's all right."
"It'd hardly be fair of me to spread a secret around," Vesryn answered. He lowered his feet off the stool. It almost seemed like he was attempting to inject some lightheartedness into his words, but failing given Stel's demeanor. It simply came off as sincere instead. "I've got his back." Zahraâs eyebrow inclined a fraction, though she only nodded. Sheâd become a hoarder of secret as of late. What was another one, added to her trove?
Estella closed her eyes, sighed deeply, and then opened them again. It was clear at least that she had difficulty parting with whatever she was trying to say, but it seemed she trusted them enough to do it anyway. When she spoke, her tone was grim, almost hurt, though that might have been the wrong word.
âThe red lyrium he was poisoned with. It... it took his magic. All of it. He's... he's not taking it well. Not that anyone can blame him for that. I'm just... worried. That he'll overdo it tonight, so if you could help me keep an eye on him, I'd really appreciate it." A small pause. â'Appreciate' is an understatement, actually."
"It took..." Vesryn words fell short, maybe just out of desire to not make Stel repeat herself. He glanced back behind him, over the back of his chair, to where Cyrus was, as though to immediately check on him. He then turned back around. "That's... wow. Okay, yeah. Absolutely." He was obviously having trouble comprehending just how that could be, but clearly he understood why the information was sensitive, something to be kept between them. "I'm happy to help."
AhâZahra could see where she was going with this. From what little she knew of Cyrus, losing his magic would have changed his entire world. If his nose wasnât in his books, or many experiments, he mustâve felt lost. An understatement. She cleared her throat and studied Stelâs face, worried as she was for her brother⊠she wasnât asking for much. âConsider it already done, Stel.â
The implication was not lost on her. More like than not, Cyrus was looking to drown himself. That, at least, was a sentiment she understood.
She shifted in her seat and took a deep breath, settling a wide grin across her lips. She certainly wasnât going to look morose when he came around. Itâd only make him feel worse. Besides, she was sure Cyrus was sharp enough to pick up on it if they all moped at the table, glancing at him as if he were a wounded pup dragging its tail behind.
At that point, Cyrus turned away from the bar, a glass of brandy in one hand, and an opaque tin mug in the other. He did not look particularly pleased to be there; the expression on his face was actually a little flat, as though the veneer of pleasantry he tended to wear was wearing thin enough to see through. There were deep purple circles under his eyes, mottled and weary, and he was looking a little gaunt in the cheeks, but then, he was usually only a few steps from it anyway.
Spotting them, he made his way over, setting the glass down in front of Estella and taking the chair next to her. She could smell the contents of his tankard even from across the table. That was Golden Scythe or it was rainwaterâand it damn sure wasn't rainwater. He took a large gulp right off, wincing slightly as it went down. With a soft cough, he wrinkled his nose. âThat's disgusting." He didn't sound altogether displeased with the fact, though, offering both Zahra and Vesryn a nod.
âCaptain. Vesryn. Lovely night to drink oneself insensate, no?"
âZee,â Zahra dragged finger in a lazy circle around the rim of her goblet and shrugged her shoulders, âIâm no Captain here. Unless thereâs a ship hiding in that glass of yours.â Cyrus didnât look good. Not that she expected any different. Fatigue lined his face, as if heâd been dragging himself through a desert. Parched and exhausted. Resigning himself to drinking something that went down like fire. That surprised her.
Her eyebrows drew up as she gave a respective sniff. âI didnât know you liked drinking dragonâs piss. I thought youâd be more of a⊠wine man.â While the comment could have come off as rude to anyone who didnât know her well enough, it was part of her appeal. Or else, she liked to think so. Fortunately enough for her, she had no one to impress at the Heraldâs Rest. Or anywhere, really. It wasnât often she was invited to a place where sheâd have to conjure up manners and etiquette. Why start now?
He snorted. âNot tonight." Dragon's piss would apparently be the order of the day.
It didn't take him long to work through the tankard; Cyrus seemed content to let the conversation go on around him without inputting much into it, or losing his intent focus on the triangle composed of his drink, an uninteresting knot in the wood grain of the table, and Estella's elbow. His face flushed rather quickly, but then anyone would get drunk fast on that swill. It was a blotchy sort of thing, rather unbecoming, and made him look decidedly younger somehow. Or maybe that was just because of the way he slumped.
At a natural lull in the talking, he spoke, seemingly apropos of nothing. âI can't believe I didn't recognize her." He seemed surprised to have said it, from the way he blinked slowly afterwards, but there was no pulling the words back into his mouth, and he seemed to know it.
âRecognize her?â Zahra echoed with a lilt. A smile was already blooming across her face. Whether it was because she was on her fourth goblet of swill, or the fact that her mind was already jumping to conclusions was anyoneâs guess. Sheâd certainly taken his statement in lewder terms than heâd meant. She was already propping her elbows across the table, eyes alight, âA bonny lass of yours?â
She paused and glanced over at Stel. Her smile only shifted a fraction, before wobbling back again. Talking about anything like that with the two sitting at the same table⊠would be hilariously strange. A snorting laugh bubbled out before she could stop it, though she didnât explain what she found so funny.
âNo." Cyrus's answer was, from what she knew of him, unusually blunt. And also unusually morose in tone. âMy would-be assassin. Leta. I... knew her, once. A long time ago now. When I was much different." He raised his tankard and took a long draught. It did not make him flinch, this time.
"I'm assuming she was different then, too." Vesryn said it more as a statement than a guess. "If you didn't recognize her. It's hard to recall every face from years and years ago, especially when they come back wearing a false one." He'd noticeably slowed down his own drinking since Cyrus arrived, and if anything the buzz he might've been feeling before had worn off by now. He didn't seem to mind.
âShe was a slave, back then. She and Milo. And I was a stupid boy who thought I was going to save the world one day. Save Tevinter from itself." Cyrus scoffed; he may have been attempting to do so under his breath, but it was quite easy to hear. âI thought they were my friends. I didn't understand the difference, then, between people who actually could be my friends and people who would simply do whatever I suggested because they were afraid of what I'd do if they didn't." He stared hard into his tankard.
âCassius warned me off it, a dozen times at least. Tried to get me to associate with other people. But I was so damned sure I was rightâthat people were people regardless, and the only thing standing in the way of us all acting like it was a bunch of stupid laws and customs. Ones I fancied I could get rid of someday, if I could become strong enough to be Archon or something." Cyrus shook his head, hair falling in front of his face a bit. He seemed almost lost in the memory of it.
Estella had been nursing the same glass all evening, and it was still only about half-gone. So she was quite clear-eyed when she prompted him to continue, though it was hard to miss the caution with which she did. âBut then... you said you killed Milo? How did that happen, if he was your friend? An accident?"
âI said I murdered him, Stellulam." Cyrus's tone was dark; he still didn't look at any of them. âAnd I meant it." Inhaling deeply, he drained the rest of his tankard in one swift go, then set it down with a hollow thud on the table, gesturing towards the bar for another.
He didn't resume the story until it was in front of him. One hand curled around the edge of the table, the other toyed with the tankard's handle. âI was a disobedient, foolish child. You have to understand that there is less forgiveness for that when you're apprenticed to a Magister than basically anywhere else. Any mistake I made could be used against Cassius. Against his family. Could get them killed. And from his perspective, everything I did back then was a mistake. If I'd have been smarter, I'd have seen it coming. I'd have just listened to him in the first place."
This conversation was going to dark places, Zahra could already tell. Sheâd glanced sidelong at Stel. Just for a moment. Trying to read the atmosphere, wondering if they were treading into dangerous territories. Apparently she didnât mind where this was going⊠so she said nothing to lighten the mood. She occasionally tipped the goblet to her lips, drinking rather slowly compared to how she usually did. Nursing her aleâwho wouldâve thought that possible of her.
Magister. Magisterâs son. Sheâd never professed to understanding how people lived in Tevinter. Only understood how close sheâd been to being banished there. Painting them all with the same brush was unlike her, but⊠still. Even the word tugged a frown across her features, though she managed to wrestle it away into something resembling a pensive line. Softer. She shut her eyes closed for a moment, and when she reopened them, the pinched tension in her brows smoothed itself.
âWas he your teacher, this Cassius?â
âSame as the one in the dungeon." Cyrus's expression changed long enough to look vaguely surprised that she didn't know that, but then it shifted back to where it had been. âI was twelve when he put his foot down. I think... I think Tevinter twists everyone. No matter what they are. I know it twisted him, just as it twisted his daughter. And twisted me."
There was a pause, several heartbeats too long to be natural. He was struggling, clearly; it was a fair bet that he'd never have made it this far into the story if he weren't as impaired as he was. With as much as he'd had, he might not remember telling it, come morning.
âHe told me... that I was ready to begin advanced blood magic." He swallowed thickly. âThe kind that requires the ending of a life."
"And the slaves are the typical choice for such a thing." At this point, Vesryn wasn't trying to mask his tone in anything, as there was no point in attempts to lift the mood. They were this far into the story, and if Cyrus was continuing to tell it, it was quite possible it would be beneficial to him. Vesryn seemed interested in pushing it along its rather dark course.
âThey are not really people, where I am from." Cyrus's mouth twisted into a bitter grimace. âCassius wanted to make sure I knew it. And to make sure I understood that I was not a person to them, either. Just a faceless avatar of fear. Of pain. Not Cy or Cyrus. Not even young Lord Avenarius. Just dominus. Just commands and the potential for harm. Like everyone else at the upper boundary of that world." The words were clearly hard to say; he had to force them out slowly, like they tasted worse than his drink. Or, perhaps, were as poisonous as red lyrium.
âHe gave me a choice. Between them. One or the other, it had to be. I refused. He told me that if I continued to refuse, he would kill them both himself." His knuckles went white against the metal cup in his hand. âYou can imagine what happened. They grasped the inevitability of the situation far sooner than I did. And of course they loved each other, as siblings should, and so each begged me to spare the other. As Leta is alive and very much desires my death, you can guess the rest, I'm sure." He looked visibly ill now, though whether that was the recounting or the Scythe wasn't easy to tell.
âI didn't disobey him after that. Not until I left. I didn't make any more friends, either. It's still... hard not to see doing so as folly. Weakness."
âCy..." Stel looked absolutely stunned by what they'd just heard. Clearly, she'd never heard the story before, and wasn't quite sure what to say now that she had. Lifting a hand, she set it carefully between his shoulderblades, smoothing it up and down a few times. âI'm... I'm so sorry. I neverâ" She grimaced and cut herself off.
Seeing how Zahra was sitting across the table from him, she wasnât quite sure what to do with everything he said so far. Was there more? Could it possibly get any worse? It was far heavier than she expected. She hadnât expected any of it at all. Sure, heâd looked downtrodden. Like a leper groveling under a bridge to die. For some reason, sheâd always suspected, even if heâd been drunk, that he would be tight-lipped about⊠well, everything. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
Vesryn hadn't taken a deep drink in a while, but at the conclusion of the story he did just that, finishing what was in his cup and setting it back down. "It's our friends that keep us from becoming such things, those in power particularly." He laid his own hand on Cyrus's upper arm, patting it a few times. "For what it's worth... Saraya doesn't think any less of you for this. Maybe more. We know these things happen in Tevinter, but not everyone makes the choice you did. To leave it behind, to make connections again. The pain is sometimes the price we pay for allowing ourselves to care. But without that, what good is the power, the control? What is there to remake the world for?"
He shrugged. "And if the one with thousands of years to think still believes in you, then so do I."
That managed to get a soft huff out of him, perhaps the first positive sign since the whole thing had started. âYou know, it might just be because I'm drunk, but there could be something to that. I don't... I don't think I chose wrong. I was a boy, and the only way I could have spared my own hands was by letting them both die. I don't regret what I decided, exactly. I just... regret that I had to." He sighed.
âAnd maybe that's not my fault, for once."
Zahra smoothed a hand over her face, tucking stray curls behind her ear as she watched them. A more genuine smile tugged at the cornerâs of her lips as she leaned her chin back into her hand. Perhaps this wasnât so bad after all. Whatever this was, it felt like a step forward. Where it would lead? She supposed that was for Cyrus to decide.
âCheers to that.â
Had they ever made any sense in the first place? Doubtfully. Relief only came when they reappeared: whole and alive. It was the most important part. Of course, she hadnât seen them. Only heard that yes they werenât dead. It was the only bit of news sheâd wanted to hear. The only one that truly mattered. To her, at least. While the others recuperated elsewhere, she had already sought out Nixium to ask why a shiny, fancy mirror was so important to them. What did eluvian mean? What did it do, anyway? Thin-lipped and perpetually annoyed by her petulant questions, the elven lass still entertained them.
It meant seeingglass in the Dalish tongue. An ancient means of travel. Thought to be lost to them, though there were always traces of ruins, and tales told by their elders and Keepers. Besides that, she knew little. The fact that there was one in Skyhold was baffling enoughâand that someone knew how to use them, even more so.
Sheâd wanted to go see Cyrus and the others, but was promptly turned away. Vague excuses were given. She understood well enough that she was better off turning tail and waiting for one of them to explain what had happened. The Inquisition was a secretive place, and besides⊠even if they did explain what had happened she wasnât sure if she would even understand. As of late, there were things happening that went far beyond anything sheâd ever experienced or seen. How could she understand? It made her feel useless, at times.
A sigh sifted past Zahraâs lips, before she quickly smothered it into her goblet. She took a long dredge of stronger stuff sheâd ordered and her cup back down, casting a glance to her drinking companion, Vesryn. He had joined her soon after theyâd come back from⊠wherever theyâd been, though she hadnât tried to wheedle any information out of him either. Not yet, at least. He always seemed the type to offer it, if it was something she needed to know. She paused for a moment and tilted her head, âSo, what happened to your friends? I hadnât the chance to bother Shae. The little she-devil disappears like a ghost.â She suspected that was on purpose.
âZeth seemed cordial enough.â From what sheâd seen, which wasnât much. They certainly hadnât come into the Heraldâs Rest often. Perhaps, there was an underlying reason for that.
"Don't let him hear you say that," Vesryn chuckled, taking a drink from his cup. "It'll go right to his head." Despite the close call he'd escaped from with the others, who were all varying states of bloody and battered and weary, Vesryn seemed to be in decent spirits. Maybe that was just the drinks. He'd had a few, and currently had his feet kicked up on a stool he'd liberated from underneath the oppression of the bar. Now under his boots.
"They're still around Skyhold, actually. Should be for another month or so. Zeth's been studying his books. Fighting off some sickness at the moment, but it can hardly keep him out of the library. Astraia spends her time with the mages, practicing until she's absolutely spent every day. And Shae, well... she has a knack for staying out of sight. Hard to pin down, that one." He spoke out of significant experience, obviously, and delivered the appraisal with a knowing grin, before he hid his face behind his cup, taking another drink.
After taking another long dredge, Zahra leaned her chin into an upturned palm. She was already feeling the tendrils of warmth spreading in her guts. It was taking her mind off the current events, as it always did. For the time being until everything crashed around her, at least. âGlad theyâre settling in well,â she added with a smile, âNever a dull moment around these parts.â
She blinked at him. Fighting off a sickness? It was the first time she was hearing of thisâthough if he was cooping himself up in the library, it made sense that she wouldnât have seen him. While sheâd often wandered around Skyhold in various states of disarray⊠whenever she stepped foot in the library she was shooed out. Apparently, they didnât like her making a mess of things. Pulling out books and stacking them into disorderly piles; little forts, and pyramid-shapes.
Vesryn didnât look all too worried about it. So, perhaps he was simply fighting off a cold. She hummed a low tune, and tapped her cheek with her fingers, regarding him with semi-lidded eyes, âNot that Iâm complaining about the company. Iâm not. Iâd always much rather drink beside a pretty faceâbut, I donât usually see you drinking⊠quite this much, this early. Did something happen?â
"Something's always happening, isn't it?" He said it with a bit of a grin, though there was some heaviness to the words. Tinged with sadness. "Sometimes there's someone trying to kill your friends, and other times your friends are risking their lives to put things to rights. Some days all of it happens at once." He looked down into the bottom of the cup. "It's more than enough to make a few drinks seem like a reasonable option."
Apparently, it seemed like a reasonable option for the Avenarius twins as well. They were hardly as frequently-seen at the Herald's Rest as the regulars, but they were here now, entering together. Cyrus made immediately for the bar, probably to order something, while for a moment Estella looked after his departure from her side with a solemn, pensive frown. She didn't follow him, though, instead casting her eyes about the room, as though checking to see who was present.
When her eyes alighted on Zahra and Vesryn, she seemed to relax, but only fractionally, and only for a moment. Picking her way through the early-evening crowd, she reached their table and smiled wanly. âI don't suppose the two of you would mind some company?" She glanced once back over her shoulder at Cyrus, but then returned her attention to them. âI... can't promise we'll be at our liveliest, though."
Zahra murmured her assent. Of course, there was a lot of that happening recently. Probably more than she even realized. She only straightened up in her chair when sheâd seen Cyrus and Stel walk through the doors. It wasnât often that she saw them both in one place, at least not here. From the looks of it, their coming here wasnât a particularly happy occasion. There was a tension to Stelâs expression. A solemnness that spoke volumes.
She dropped her hand away from her chin and gestured towards the many empty stools and chairs surrounding them, âThe more, the merrier. No one should drink alone.â
Certainly not with those heavy shoulders.
"The Captain's got that right," Vesryn agreed. "Have a seat."
Stel took a chair, sighing in a way that seemed to be involuntary. She sounded tired. âThe truth is, I'm really only here to look after Cyrus. He..." She was quiet for a long moment, glancing down at the table between them. She folded her hands atop it, but just as soon seemed to think better of it and dropped one back into her lap. The other thumb rubbed at a water-stain in the wood, like she was trying to get it out. She grimaced, and lifted her eyes back to them with what seemed like great difficulty.
âI'm going to tell you something important. But... I need it to stay between us. He needs it to. ...If that's all right."
"It'd hardly be fair of me to spread a secret around," Vesryn answered. He lowered his feet off the stool. It almost seemed like he was attempting to inject some lightheartedness into his words, but failing given Stel's demeanor. It simply came off as sincere instead. "I've got his back." Zahraâs eyebrow inclined a fraction, though she only nodded. Sheâd become a hoarder of secret as of late. What was another one, added to her trove?
Estella closed her eyes, sighed deeply, and then opened them again. It was clear at least that she had difficulty parting with whatever she was trying to say, but it seemed she trusted them enough to do it anyway. When she spoke, her tone was grim, almost hurt, though that might have been the wrong word.
âThe red lyrium he was poisoned with. It... it took his magic. All of it. He's... he's not taking it well. Not that anyone can blame him for that. I'm just... worried. That he'll overdo it tonight, so if you could help me keep an eye on him, I'd really appreciate it." A small pause. â'Appreciate' is an understatement, actually."
"It took..." Vesryn words fell short, maybe just out of desire to not make Stel repeat herself. He glanced back behind him, over the back of his chair, to where Cyrus was, as though to immediately check on him. He then turned back around. "That's... wow. Okay, yeah. Absolutely." He was obviously having trouble comprehending just how that could be, but clearly he understood why the information was sensitive, something to be kept between them. "I'm happy to help."
AhâZahra could see where she was going with this. From what little she knew of Cyrus, losing his magic would have changed his entire world. If his nose wasnât in his books, or many experiments, he mustâve felt lost. An understatement. She cleared her throat and studied Stelâs face, worried as she was for her brother⊠she wasnât asking for much. âConsider it already done, Stel.â
The implication was not lost on her. More like than not, Cyrus was looking to drown himself. That, at least, was a sentiment she understood.
She shifted in her seat and took a deep breath, settling a wide grin across her lips. She certainly wasnât going to look morose when he came around. Itâd only make him feel worse. Besides, she was sure Cyrus was sharp enough to pick up on it if they all moped at the table, glancing at him as if he were a wounded pup dragging its tail behind.
At that point, Cyrus turned away from the bar, a glass of brandy in one hand, and an opaque tin mug in the other. He did not look particularly pleased to be there; the expression on his face was actually a little flat, as though the veneer of pleasantry he tended to wear was wearing thin enough to see through. There were deep purple circles under his eyes, mottled and weary, and he was looking a little gaunt in the cheeks, but then, he was usually only a few steps from it anyway.
Spotting them, he made his way over, setting the glass down in front of Estella and taking the chair next to her. She could smell the contents of his tankard even from across the table. That was Golden Scythe or it was rainwaterâand it damn sure wasn't rainwater. He took a large gulp right off, wincing slightly as it went down. With a soft cough, he wrinkled his nose. âThat's disgusting." He didn't sound altogether displeased with the fact, though, offering both Zahra and Vesryn a nod.
âCaptain. Vesryn. Lovely night to drink oneself insensate, no?"
âZee,â Zahra dragged finger in a lazy circle around the rim of her goblet and shrugged her shoulders, âIâm no Captain here. Unless thereâs a ship hiding in that glass of yours.â Cyrus didnât look good. Not that she expected any different. Fatigue lined his face, as if heâd been dragging himself through a desert. Parched and exhausted. Resigning himself to drinking something that went down like fire. That surprised her.
Her eyebrows drew up as she gave a respective sniff. âI didnât know you liked drinking dragonâs piss. I thought youâd be more of a⊠wine man.â While the comment could have come off as rude to anyone who didnât know her well enough, it was part of her appeal. Or else, she liked to think so. Fortunately enough for her, she had no one to impress at the Heraldâs Rest. Or anywhere, really. It wasnât often she was invited to a place where sheâd have to conjure up manners and etiquette. Why start now?
He snorted. âNot tonight." Dragon's piss would apparently be the order of the day.
It didn't take him long to work through the tankard; Cyrus seemed content to let the conversation go on around him without inputting much into it, or losing his intent focus on the triangle composed of his drink, an uninteresting knot in the wood grain of the table, and Estella's elbow. His face flushed rather quickly, but then anyone would get drunk fast on that swill. It was a blotchy sort of thing, rather unbecoming, and made him look decidedly younger somehow. Or maybe that was just because of the way he slumped.
At a natural lull in the talking, he spoke, seemingly apropos of nothing. âI can't believe I didn't recognize her." He seemed surprised to have said it, from the way he blinked slowly afterwards, but there was no pulling the words back into his mouth, and he seemed to know it.
âRecognize her?â Zahra echoed with a lilt. A smile was already blooming across her face. Whether it was because she was on her fourth goblet of swill, or the fact that her mind was already jumping to conclusions was anyoneâs guess. Sheâd certainly taken his statement in lewder terms than heâd meant. She was already propping her elbows across the table, eyes alight, âA bonny lass of yours?â
She paused and glanced over at Stel. Her smile only shifted a fraction, before wobbling back again. Talking about anything like that with the two sitting at the same table⊠would be hilariously strange. A snorting laugh bubbled out before she could stop it, though she didnât explain what she found so funny.
âNo." Cyrus's answer was, from what she knew of him, unusually blunt. And also unusually morose in tone. âMy would-be assassin. Leta. I... knew her, once. A long time ago now. When I was much different." He raised his tankard and took a long draught. It did not make him flinch, this time.
"I'm assuming she was different then, too." Vesryn said it more as a statement than a guess. "If you didn't recognize her. It's hard to recall every face from years and years ago, especially when they come back wearing a false one." He'd noticeably slowed down his own drinking since Cyrus arrived, and if anything the buzz he might've been feeling before had worn off by now. He didn't seem to mind.
âShe was a slave, back then. She and Milo. And I was a stupid boy who thought I was going to save the world one day. Save Tevinter from itself." Cyrus scoffed; he may have been attempting to do so under his breath, but it was quite easy to hear. âI thought they were my friends. I didn't understand the difference, then, between people who actually could be my friends and people who would simply do whatever I suggested because they were afraid of what I'd do if they didn't." He stared hard into his tankard.
âCassius warned me off it, a dozen times at least. Tried to get me to associate with other people. But I was so damned sure I was rightâthat people were people regardless, and the only thing standing in the way of us all acting like it was a bunch of stupid laws and customs. Ones I fancied I could get rid of someday, if I could become strong enough to be Archon or something." Cyrus shook his head, hair falling in front of his face a bit. He seemed almost lost in the memory of it.
Estella had been nursing the same glass all evening, and it was still only about half-gone. So she was quite clear-eyed when she prompted him to continue, though it was hard to miss the caution with which she did. âBut then... you said you killed Milo? How did that happen, if he was your friend? An accident?"
âI said I murdered him, Stellulam." Cyrus's tone was dark; he still didn't look at any of them. âAnd I meant it." Inhaling deeply, he drained the rest of his tankard in one swift go, then set it down with a hollow thud on the table, gesturing towards the bar for another.
He didn't resume the story until it was in front of him. One hand curled around the edge of the table, the other toyed with the tankard's handle. âI was a disobedient, foolish child. You have to understand that there is less forgiveness for that when you're apprenticed to a Magister than basically anywhere else. Any mistake I made could be used against Cassius. Against his family. Could get them killed. And from his perspective, everything I did back then was a mistake. If I'd have been smarter, I'd have seen it coming. I'd have just listened to him in the first place."
This conversation was going to dark places, Zahra could already tell. Sheâd glanced sidelong at Stel. Just for a moment. Trying to read the atmosphere, wondering if they were treading into dangerous territories. Apparently she didnât mind where this was going⊠so she said nothing to lighten the mood. She occasionally tipped the goblet to her lips, drinking rather slowly compared to how she usually did. Nursing her aleâwho wouldâve thought that possible of her.
Magister. Magisterâs son. Sheâd never professed to understanding how people lived in Tevinter. Only understood how close sheâd been to being banished there. Painting them all with the same brush was unlike her, but⊠still. Even the word tugged a frown across her features, though she managed to wrestle it away into something resembling a pensive line. Softer. She shut her eyes closed for a moment, and when she reopened them, the pinched tension in her brows smoothed itself.
âWas he your teacher, this Cassius?â
âSame as the one in the dungeon." Cyrus's expression changed long enough to look vaguely surprised that she didn't know that, but then it shifted back to where it had been. âI was twelve when he put his foot down. I think... I think Tevinter twists everyone. No matter what they are. I know it twisted him, just as it twisted his daughter. And twisted me."
There was a pause, several heartbeats too long to be natural. He was struggling, clearly; it was a fair bet that he'd never have made it this far into the story if he weren't as impaired as he was. With as much as he'd had, he might not remember telling it, come morning.
âHe told me... that I was ready to begin advanced blood magic." He swallowed thickly. âThe kind that requires the ending of a life."
"And the slaves are the typical choice for such a thing." At this point, Vesryn wasn't trying to mask his tone in anything, as there was no point in attempts to lift the mood. They were this far into the story, and if Cyrus was continuing to tell it, it was quite possible it would be beneficial to him. Vesryn seemed interested in pushing it along its rather dark course.
âThey are not really people, where I am from." Cyrus's mouth twisted into a bitter grimace. âCassius wanted to make sure I knew it. And to make sure I understood that I was not a person to them, either. Just a faceless avatar of fear. Of pain. Not Cy or Cyrus. Not even young Lord Avenarius. Just dominus. Just commands and the potential for harm. Like everyone else at the upper boundary of that world." The words were clearly hard to say; he had to force them out slowly, like they tasted worse than his drink. Or, perhaps, were as poisonous as red lyrium.
âHe gave me a choice. Between them. One or the other, it had to be. I refused. He told me that if I continued to refuse, he would kill them both himself." His knuckles went white against the metal cup in his hand. âYou can imagine what happened. They grasped the inevitability of the situation far sooner than I did. And of course they loved each other, as siblings should, and so each begged me to spare the other. As Leta is alive and very much desires my death, you can guess the rest, I'm sure." He looked visibly ill now, though whether that was the recounting or the Scythe wasn't easy to tell.
âI didn't disobey him after that. Not until I left. I didn't make any more friends, either. It's still... hard not to see doing so as folly. Weakness."
âCy..." Stel looked absolutely stunned by what they'd just heard. Clearly, she'd never heard the story before, and wasn't quite sure what to say now that she had. Lifting a hand, she set it carefully between his shoulderblades, smoothing it up and down a few times. âI'm... I'm so sorry. I neverâ" She grimaced and cut herself off.
Seeing how Zahra was sitting across the table from him, she wasnât quite sure what to do with everything he said so far. Was there more? Could it possibly get any worse? It was far heavier than she expected. She hadnât expected any of it at all. Sure, heâd looked downtrodden. Like a leper groveling under a bridge to die. For some reason, sheâd always suspected, even if heâd been drunk, that he would be tight-lipped about⊠well, everything. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
Vesryn hadn't taken a deep drink in a while, but at the conclusion of the story he did just that, finishing what was in his cup and setting it back down. "It's our friends that keep us from becoming such things, those in power particularly." He laid his own hand on Cyrus's upper arm, patting it a few times. "For what it's worth... Saraya doesn't think any less of you for this. Maybe more. We know these things happen in Tevinter, but not everyone makes the choice you did. To leave it behind, to make connections again. The pain is sometimes the price we pay for allowing ourselves to care. But without that, what good is the power, the control? What is there to remake the world for?"
He shrugged. "And if the one with thousands of years to think still believes in you, then so do I."
That managed to get a soft huff out of him, perhaps the first positive sign since the whole thing had started. âYou know, it might just be because I'm drunk, but there could be something to that. I don't... I don't think I chose wrong. I was a boy, and the only way I could have spared my own hands was by letting them both die. I don't regret what I decided, exactly. I just... regret that I had to." He sighed.
âAnd maybe that's not my fault, for once."
Zahra smoothed a hand over her face, tucking stray curls behind her ear as she watched them. A more genuine smile tugged at the cornerâs of her lips as she leaned her chin back into her hand. Perhaps this wasnât so bad after all. Whatever this was, it felt like a step forward. Where it would lead? She supposed that was for Cyrus to decide.
âCheers to that.â