It felt good to be useful.
Vesryn wasn't sure if he would have any purpose being on this trip with Stel other than emotional support, and at some point had even worried that his presence might have only complicated matters. But that had proven untrue; the work he and Saraya had done was in large part responsible for their unraveling of the mystery, and the finding of these Cendredoights. Ashfingers. For better or for worse. If they had not, Julien would have died by now. But since they had, they unwittingly threatened all of the elves the group wanted to protect so badly.
He believed he knew a thing or two about being a protector, but their situation was undoubtedly a difficult one. His people, especially the downtrodden of Orlais, simply didn't have the ability to defend themselves in the light. They wanted to fight back, to hope that someday that would change, but the only way they could fight was in darkness. And if that fight was ever discovered, they would simply be crushed in the light of day. The question in Vesryn's mind was whether their fight would accomplish anything at all, or if it would only destroy them before they could achieve anything.
And if they did achieve something, what would be the cost?
Vesryn found himself unwilling to linger on the thought for too long. Julien would live, albeit in prison for a few months, no one had died, and Stel... he didn't want to presume, but he thought she seemed happy. There was nothing more infectious to him than that at the moment.
It was late afternoon, the day's light beginning to change in color, but not yet time to eat. They'd been staying in Stel's house now that The Roost was... not nearly as desirable anymore. Vesryn had spent the last few hours for a brief rest, time to let his mind wander and exchange some thoughts with Saraya. She slept soundly almost every night now, in dreamless, peaceful stillness. If anything, it had made her feel all the more aware and alive, still alive, in her waking hours. It gave him strength, and confidence that he didn't want to let go of.
But at the moment, he sought Stel's company. He'd gotten the sense she needed some space to speak with Julien and Rilien and her brother, about what happened and maybe about other things. Vesryn understood that he could throw her off balance sometimes, but he believed it was a healthy thing, and he believed she'd found that balance, stronger than ever now. A very thin beam, but no match for her.
He stepped out of the room, in search of her.
Her house wasn't especially large, but it was clearly intended to be comfortable. She'd mentioned that the Argent Lions owned the whole block of buildings, narrow houses all connected together, but separate enough not to feel the same way a barracks did. The edifice was red brick, the insides painted in soft, pleasant colors, accented here and there with what seemed to be bits of nostalgia. Her furniture was all solid, and there was enough of it to suggest that guests here were not infrequent. The fact that she had two spare bedrooms was also a rather prominent clue. Otherwise, there was a larger central living area, a kitchen, and her study in terms of likely locations, but the door out of the room he was staying in put him right out into the first, so she clearly wasn't there.
There was no noise coming from the kitchen, either, suggesting that she must be in the study. It was up the single narrow staircase, but she'd left the door open, making it clear enough that she was inside. She looked to be putting the finishing touches on a letter, folding it into an envelope and heating some wax to seal it.
Upon hearing his approach, she glanced up, offering a smile. “Hello, Ves. Something you need? I can offer a lot more book recommendations now that we're here instead of Skyhold." She did indeed appear to have a lot of shelves, most of them full of well-worn books; she had mentioned something at one point about having expected to be a scholar. There were certainly enough volumes around to lend the idea some credence.
Vesryn stopped to lean in the doorway, hooking a thumb under his belt and eyeing the shelves. "We'll have to bring some back with us. Help me through the long winter. I know Saraya enjoys them as well." She'd never read any of these stories before, and truth be told, Vesryn was never that much of a reader until recent years. He certainly would never be of the scholarly variety, but he found the relaxation more than pleasing enough, especially when it came with a warm fire and a comfortable chair in the winter.
"Would you mind walking? There's still some daylight left, and I haven't seen my fill of the city yet. I want to see where you Lions go, what you get up to when duty isn't calling." More than that, he just wanted to walk with her, talk with her, do anything and everything with her. For once, he didn't feel like being quite so forward. Not yet, anyway.
“Of course." She seemed rather pleased by the suggestion herself. Taking the moment more necessary to stamp the wax seal, she set the letter neatly on the corner of the desk and stood. “I'm happy to show you wherever you want to see. Let me get a cloak..."
Once they were both appropriately attired and Stel had stopped to inform Rilien that they were leaving for a while, she pulled the door shut behind them, locking it and sliding the key up her sleeve. She expelled a breath; it clouded out into the air. A chill was beginning to settle as the daylight waned a bit. “If you want to know where the Lions go, though... hm." Stel shrugged, an easy motion that seemed to stem from her apparent high spirits rather than diminishing them. “There's taverns and restaurants, of course. Parks, theaters, the harbor... Hissrad likes the sculpture gardens. The markets are always lively, and they sell really good food?" She seemed to realize she was rambling a little, and cleared her throat.
“I guess what I mean is there's something for pretty much any inclination. Anything in particular you want to see?"
"Let's leave the markets for when we're starving." He supposed they could find an actual restaurant and dine on something a little more structured, but Vesryn felt the liveliness of a marketplace was more appealing. More reminiscent of an old place he might've once called home. They had no restaurants there, none that he found himself welcome at anyway, but they did have a community, one that gathered in a big unruly mob sometimes to eat and share and smile. Not unlike one large, barely constrained family. "The harbor's close, let's start there. Not many ships to see in the Inquisition."
He didn't mind the cold, and had brought a cloak along himself. Still not the lion pelt, that was just... too much. And it was nothing here compared to the chill that would settle into Skyhold soon. Nothing that could dampen their spirits. "Julien's doing alright, then? As well as can be expected, at least?"
She nodded, starting them down the road to the south, which took them through the aptly-named harbor district towards the edge of the Waking Sea. “He's... yes. He's never really been one to stay down for long, and he's fine waiting a bit for things to be sorted out. I was just writing the Commander a letter, actually; I'm sure when he gets back from Lydes, he'll be willing to help move things along quickly."
It wasn't too long before the smell of saltwater and fish was heavy on the air, but considering the season, the latter wasn't as pungent as it could have been. Seafaring birds were already wheeling overhead—gulls and terns and an albatross, even. Work still carried on at this hour; Stel kept them to the sides of the roads so they wouldn't be in the way of any of the numerous laden carts that went by, conveying crates from ships to elsewhere. She walked close, enough so that her shoulder nearly brushed his arm, stride sure over the often-slick stone streets. “Denerim's a harbor city as well, right? On the Amaranthine? I've been a lot of places, but never there."
"It is." Vesryn imagined the layout in his mind. He'd known it well, and now that he had distance and years from it, he supposed he was fond of it in some ways. Perhaps seeing Val Royeaux's Alienage had reminded him of what he had, what he'd chosen to give up. It seemed like more now than it ever had back then. "In fact, the bridge to the Alienage took you over a river named after the family of that Commander of yours." It was fascinating how many people in positions of power Stel knew. Even before becoming a Herald of Andraste or an Inquisitor. And not even due to her birth or anything of the sort, but as friends. "My friends and I used to slip out and visit the docks, watch the ships. We'd play this stupid game where we'd invent stories about each one that came or went. Where it came from, where it was going, who was on board and where they wanted the winds to take them." The thought of stowing away was always at the back of his mind, and he knew the others thought it too, but none of them ever worked up the courage to run away into something unknown. There was that fear that it could be worse than what little comfort they knew.
"I don't know what became of any of my childhood friends," he admitted, with some degree of regret. "They're probably still there. They probably have families and jobs and responsibilities. I should ask after them sometime, but... sometimes I think it might be better, not knowing the answer." Even in Denerim, even with the positive influence of King Alistair and Warden-Queen Cousland, bad things still happened to the elves. Culture was not something that could be changed overnight, or in a decade.
She hummed thoughtfully, steering them around a few closed fishmonger's stalls and towards the harbor proper. The dockworkers didn't pay them any mind, except to offer the occasional nod if they made eye contact or the like. One of the docks was currently empty, a wooden jut out into the water that offered a nice view of the smooth, glassy surface out beyond. The sun would sink out that way soon, and set the sea on fire with color, but that was a ways off yet. “I've been lucky," she observed. “It always seems like I find my way back to my friends, or they find their ways back to me, even when I think it won't happen. I hadn't seen Julien in two and a half years. Or Kess or Gauvain or the Costanzas. Before all this, I was never sure when I'd see Cyrus again. And somehow it seems like Kirkwall's never far."
Under her cloak, she crossed her arms. “It's... comfortable. Knowing they're all around. But if it were Minrathous, I don't know. Sometimes I feel like the less I think about there, the better." Perhaps for similar reasons.
Vesryn found himself wishing he had made more connections in the years after leaving Denerim. Better connections. He'd spent so much time alone, trying to figure out Saraya, and then when he had decided to rejoin the world, it was with mercenaries. Not Stel's group, either, good people all around, hand picked and molded by a leader that really cared. No, the ones he'd known were a ragtag bunch, not even many he'd consider good people, but simply men and women that weren't sure what to do with themselves and their skills. It paid his way, it allowed him to train, but it wasn't fulfilling work, nor did he make many connections he valued. He left as soon as he felt he was ready.
And then he'd allowed himself to grow attached to a place, to people. To finally let his secret slip to someone he thought he could trust. A wonderful feeling that would be turned against him eventually. He never wanted to go through that again, and it had made him all the more careful about what people he was willing to trust. Stel had earned every bit of the trust she had from him, because unlike in his past, she asked for so little in return. Often nothing at all.
"Have I ever mentioned what made me leave?" he asked. "The thing that finally pushed me into running, rebelling, and stumbling right into Saraya?"
Stel nodded once, moving her attention from the water up to his face. She huffed slightly, an amused sound, it seemed from the half-smile that went with. “I believe your exact words were 'shoddy arranged marriage,' but I could be misremembering that. You hadn't intended it to be a permanent departure, as I recall."
Had he phrased it like that? Vesryn barely even remembered it himself. It must've slipped when he'd first explained how he came to be with Saraya. He felt vaguely annoyed by his own words. Things had changed him, since then...
"It was, yeah. It's not an uncommon thing for us, arrangements with other families, sometimes from other Alienages." Alienages had a way of becoming... a little too insular, too few families with children all finding their way to one another. Thus the elders often tried to arrange for exchanges between communities. It helped to spread knowledge, as well, and strengthen the bonds between the cities. "I was eighteen, my bride-to-be sixteen. But... I never even met her. We didn't even know her name. She was just 'the girl from Gwaren' and they kept telling me I was lucky." Lucky enough to be wanted for such a thing, to be deemed valuable enough to put into a marriage that would strengthen the community.
"I didn't think much of myself, but I suppose I was actually something of a catch, if something or someone could calm me down." A smile played at his lips. "I didn't look like I do now, of course, but I've always been pretty. Not half as pretty as you are, but they hoped I'd impress the girl, all the same."
Stel rolled her eyes, knocking him in the arm with her elbow only gently. She shook her head, but there was a little smile on her face. As much embarrassed as amused, maybe, but in good humor nevertheless. “And what else would you need, really?" she drawled, clearly poking fun, but she didn't linger on it. “But you... what? Got nervous? Upset, maybe?"
"Quite a bit of both. I was... well, I was still a kid, and I was being told to marry another kid, and to me that was the death of my freedom, the start of inescapable monotony." Not that he'd had much freedom to begin with, but it had always come with the lack of any responsibility to any other person or thing that he'd had. If he became tied to someone, tied to the place he lived in and the people he lived with like that, he would've been forced to change. In a way that he simply hadn't been ready for, but couldn't bring himself to convince anyone of. "And I suppose I was afraid. I knew I wasn't ready for it, and felt with such certainty that I would disappoint her, the girl from Gwaren. Then I would disappoint my parents, the hahren, everyone I lived with. I don't think I thought it through, but... maybe by running I was just getting it over with."
Replacing doubt with certainty, in a way that felt right to him at the time. He couldn't find the words, so he used action instead, and had hoped it would be enough to express how badly he wanted to keep his freedom. Instead he never came home. The first people he abandoned.
"I think what bothers me the most," he continued, not distraught by any means, but certainly with regret, "is that I didn't give that girl a chance. She came to Denerim and found that her groom had run away without even seeing her face or knowing her name. For all I know, she might've made me happy. I might've done the same for her. Instead, I can't even imagine what she thought of me. How much that must've hurt." Because he knew that there were some people that would take such a thing deeply personally, see it as a failing of their own, even if they had nothing to do with it. "I hope she was able to find someone else."
“It... probably didn't feel the best at first," Estella agreed, shifting slightly where she stood. “But who knows? Maybe it was a relief. At least, if it had happened to me at sixteen, I probably would have been relieved, in the end. And I'm... well." She made a small, vague gesture with her hand. It wasn't too hard to figure out that she meant her rather apparent sensitivity to the opinions of other people. “So I think she probably did. You could always ask your parents, when you write next. If you don't mind knowing."
"I think I will," he said, nodding. "One thing I've determined from coming here is that I can't afford to let any more connections slip away from me. Not when the world is this dangerous. I've always acted like I've had unlimited time, but... anything could happen to them, or to me. So I need to make the most of it." Of course, he didn't plan on letting anything happen to anyone, but the world was rarely so kind as to let plans go off without a hitch. He stared out at the water a moment, now bathed in an orange sheen as the sun sank lower and lower towards the horizon.
"Thanks for listening to me, it... it felt good to say. I've, uh, been wondering." His tone grew softer, the way he knew it did when he was about to ask questions of her that he felt might be difficult. He knew this had to be approached carefully. "Have you thought any more about... the things I said to you? After everything that happened with Astraia, and Zeth."
She looked at her feet almost immediately, but then embarrassment wasn't really an unusual reaction from her. “That's a silly question," she said softly, shaking her head. “You tell a person something like that, there's no way they don't think about it." She cleared her throat, gathering the wherewithal to lift her eyes and smile wryly. “No one's ever said anything like that to me before. It's honestly... difficult, for me to believe. Hard to see past all the reasons I have for not believing it."
The smile fell away. “I'm not—" Stel paused, clearly trying to work out what she wanted to say. “I don't know how to do this kind of thing. If it's, uh... a thing. At all. Which I might have just read into what you said without actually asking about, now that I get to thinking about it. But, um, please don't answer that for a second." She held up a hand in front of herself palm out, but then her fingers curled in slightly and she dropped it.
Pulling in a slow breath, she grimaced, smoothed it out, then spoke. “You're... you're amazing, Ves. Really. I know you say silly things about yourself a lot, and I know you might occasionally mean them, usually when Saraya's involved, but I mean you. And I do. Mean it, that is." Her face was turning an impressive shade of red, particularly in a thick band over her cheeks and nose. “You're... you're funny and you're clever, and you always make me feel like everything's going to be all right. And when there's a fight and it comes down to it, I feel better, knowing I'm going into it with you. Not because of your skill, or Saraya's or anything like that, but because I know you care about what I care about, and so anytime you're wading in with me... it's the right thing to do."
She dropped her eyes for a moment. “And you are pretty, I admit it, and I've always thought so, because, well, I have eyes, but more than that you're—I don't even know everything that you are yet, and that's terrifying and also incredible. Because I like you a little more every time I learn something new."
Her breath gusted out in a rush before she regained it. “And I do like you—quite a lot. I think maybe, with some time, I could... more than like you. But this isn't—I'm not—I'm rambling. I'm sorry. It's just that I have no idea what I'm doing or even what you want out of this. Not that you have to have decided. I don't know what I want out of this, except that I probably can't do, um. Anything too... casual. I'm not really made for it, I don't think." It wasn't clear if she'd actually run out of words or just forced herself to stop using them, but the latter was likely, considering her sigh.
It was a lot more of an answer than what he was expecting, that much was for sure, and Vesryn couldn't help but be smiling through it, even if he knew that was just going to make her more red in the face. He felt about as light as air from everything that spilled out of her, and the idea that he might be able to make her feel that way, even a little bit, for a small moment, was the most tantalizing thing in the world.
"There's reason for that, the casual thing that you've seen me do. It's..." he exhaled a breath. It seemed like each passing month brought some new thing he wanted to change about himself. This was something he'd wanted to change a while ago, but he hadn't really spoken of it, because... well, his candidates for speaking were her and her brother, really. "You've seen what came of the last time I didn't take something casually. It hurt, and I think it still hurts. I imagine I probably seem like someone sincere, open with myself, but... honestly, I've always had trouble letting people in." The beginnings of it had been true even before he had Saraya, but it became much worse after. Trusting wasn't easy, not when someone else's well being was tied up in it. Someone he also cared for deeply. Only...
"But with you, it's been the easiest thing. To trust you, to care about you. The idea of anything between us being casual or empty... I can't stand the thought of that. I don't want to run from things I feel anymore, I don't want to guarantee a lesser evil just because the chance at real good comes with risk." And he didn't believe anything Stel could ever do would hurt him. Not in the ways that mattered. After everything they'd been through, he'd seen the person she was clearly enough. And that was a person he wanted to be better for, as she had already made him better in more ways than she knew.
"What I want out of this is to make you happy, because that's what you already do for me. Not casual, but simple. We don't have enough simple things in our lives." And sometimes the simplest things were the most beautiful, the most worth fighting for.
Her face lit up with her smile, bright as any she'd ever worn in his company. “Simple's good," she agreed. The smile faded a little, but she reached out and took one of his hands with hers, the unmarked one. Her palm was actually quite small, her fingers slender, but roughened with the evidence of all her hours of practice. “And maybe... maybe risk isn't all bad, either."
Stel hesitated for a clear moment, then rose quickly onto her toes, leaning just a bit to the side. Her hand squeezed gently over his in the same moment her lips pressed to his cheek. It was only a quick little contact, and even a bit clumsy, perhaps due in part to the discrepancy in their heights. She landed back on her heels with a shy quirk to her mouth, clearing her throat. “Um. That was—thank you. For all of this. I couldn't have done it without you. And it means... all of it means more than I can say."
"I'm glad I could help. I'm glad we could help each other." He wouldn't tolerate a second of her thinking she owed him a debt. Not after everything she'd done for him, this venture being the first thing she ever asked in return. The difference between them in experience was... well, it was quite severe, but next to everything else that part really didn't matter. What mattered was the admission, and the opening of the way forward, however slowly they wanted to go.
He gestured sideways with his head, strands of silver-white hair tipping away from his face in the light breeze. He solidified a steady hold around her hand. "We should head to that market, don't you think? I'm famished."
She nodded, shifting her hand so that their fingers laced together. “Let's."
Vesryn wasn't sure if he would have any purpose being on this trip with Stel other than emotional support, and at some point had even worried that his presence might have only complicated matters. But that had proven untrue; the work he and Saraya had done was in large part responsible for their unraveling of the mystery, and the finding of these Cendredoights. Ashfingers. For better or for worse. If they had not, Julien would have died by now. But since they had, they unwittingly threatened all of the elves the group wanted to protect so badly.
He believed he knew a thing or two about being a protector, but their situation was undoubtedly a difficult one. His people, especially the downtrodden of Orlais, simply didn't have the ability to defend themselves in the light. They wanted to fight back, to hope that someday that would change, but the only way they could fight was in darkness. And if that fight was ever discovered, they would simply be crushed in the light of day. The question in Vesryn's mind was whether their fight would accomplish anything at all, or if it would only destroy them before they could achieve anything.
And if they did achieve something, what would be the cost?
Vesryn found himself unwilling to linger on the thought for too long. Julien would live, albeit in prison for a few months, no one had died, and Stel... he didn't want to presume, but he thought she seemed happy. There was nothing more infectious to him than that at the moment.
It was late afternoon, the day's light beginning to change in color, but not yet time to eat. They'd been staying in Stel's house now that The Roost was... not nearly as desirable anymore. Vesryn had spent the last few hours for a brief rest, time to let his mind wander and exchange some thoughts with Saraya. She slept soundly almost every night now, in dreamless, peaceful stillness. If anything, it had made her feel all the more aware and alive, still alive, in her waking hours. It gave him strength, and confidence that he didn't want to let go of.
But at the moment, he sought Stel's company. He'd gotten the sense she needed some space to speak with Julien and Rilien and her brother, about what happened and maybe about other things. Vesryn understood that he could throw her off balance sometimes, but he believed it was a healthy thing, and he believed she'd found that balance, stronger than ever now. A very thin beam, but no match for her.
He stepped out of the room, in search of her.
Her house wasn't especially large, but it was clearly intended to be comfortable. She'd mentioned that the Argent Lions owned the whole block of buildings, narrow houses all connected together, but separate enough not to feel the same way a barracks did. The edifice was red brick, the insides painted in soft, pleasant colors, accented here and there with what seemed to be bits of nostalgia. Her furniture was all solid, and there was enough of it to suggest that guests here were not infrequent. The fact that she had two spare bedrooms was also a rather prominent clue. Otherwise, there was a larger central living area, a kitchen, and her study in terms of likely locations, but the door out of the room he was staying in put him right out into the first, so she clearly wasn't there.
There was no noise coming from the kitchen, either, suggesting that she must be in the study. It was up the single narrow staircase, but she'd left the door open, making it clear enough that she was inside. She looked to be putting the finishing touches on a letter, folding it into an envelope and heating some wax to seal it.
Upon hearing his approach, she glanced up, offering a smile. “Hello, Ves. Something you need? I can offer a lot more book recommendations now that we're here instead of Skyhold." She did indeed appear to have a lot of shelves, most of them full of well-worn books; she had mentioned something at one point about having expected to be a scholar. There were certainly enough volumes around to lend the idea some credence.
Vesryn stopped to lean in the doorway, hooking a thumb under his belt and eyeing the shelves. "We'll have to bring some back with us. Help me through the long winter. I know Saraya enjoys them as well." She'd never read any of these stories before, and truth be told, Vesryn was never that much of a reader until recent years. He certainly would never be of the scholarly variety, but he found the relaxation more than pleasing enough, especially when it came with a warm fire and a comfortable chair in the winter.
"Would you mind walking? There's still some daylight left, and I haven't seen my fill of the city yet. I want to see where you Lions go, what you get up to when duty isn't calling." More than that, he just wanted to walk with her, talk with her, do anything and everything with her. For once, he didn't feel like being quite so forward. Not yet, anyway.
“Of course." She seemed rather pleased by the suggestion herself. Taking the moment more necessary to stamp the wax seal, she set the letter neatly on the corner of the desk and stood. “I'm happy to show you wherever you want to see. Let me get a cloak..."
Once they were both appropriately attired and Stel had stopped to inform Rilien that they were leaving for a while, she pulled the door shut behind them, locking it and sliding the key up her sleeve. She expelled a breath; it clouded out into the air. A chill was beginning to settle as the daylight waned a bit. “If you want to know where the Lions go, though... hm." Stel shrugged, an easy motion that seemed to stem from her apparent high spirits rather than diminishing them. “There's taverns and restaurants, of course. Parks, theaters, the harbor... Hissrad likes the sculpture gardens. The markets are always lively, and they sell really good food?" She seemed to realize she was rambling a little, and cleared her throat.
“I guess what I mean is there's something for pretty much any inclination. Anything in particular you want to see?"
"Let's leave the markets for when we're starving." He supposed they could find an actual restaurant and dine on something a little more structured, but Vesryn felt the liveliness of a marketplace was more appealing. More reminiscent of an old place he might've once called home. They had no restaurants there, none that he found himself welcome at anyway, but they did have a community, one that gathered in a big unruly mob sometimes to eat and share and smile. Not unlike one large, barely constrained family. "The harbor's close, let's start there. Not many ships to see in the Inquisition."
He didn't mind the cold, and had brought a cloak along himself. Still not the lion pelt, that was just... too much. And it was nothing here compared to the chill that would settle into Skyhold soon. Nothing that could dampen their spirits. "Julien's doing alright, then? As well as can be expected, at least?"
She nodded, starting them down the road to the south, which took them through the aptly-named harbor district towards the edge of the Waking Sea. “He's... yes. He's never really been one to stay down for long, and he's fine waiting a bit for things to be sorted out. I was just writing the Commander a letter, actually; I'm sure when he gets back from Lydes, he'll be willing to help move things along quickly."
It wasn't too long before the smell of saltwater and fish was heavy on the air, but considering the season, the latter wasn't as pungent as it could have been. Seafaring birds were already wheeling overhead—gulls and terns and an albatross, even. Work still carried on at this hour; Stel kept them to the sides of the roads so they wouldn't be in the way of any of the numerous laden carts that went by, conveying crates from ships to elsewhere. She walked close, enough so that her shoulder nearly brushed his arm, stride sure over the often-slick stone streets. “Denerim's a harbor city as well, right? On the Amaranthine? I've been a lot of places, but never there."
"It is." Vesryn imagined the layout in his mind. He'd known it well, and now that he had distance and years from it, he supposed he was fond of it in some ways. Perhaps seeing Val Royeaux's Alienage had reminded him of what he had, what he'd chosen to give up. It seemed like more now than it ever had back then. "In fact, the bridge to the Alienage took you over a river named after the family of that Commander of yours." It was fascinating how many people in positions of power Stel knew. Even before becoming a Herald of Andraste or an Inquisitor. And not even due to her birth or anything of the sort, but as friends. "My friends and I used to slip out and visit the docks, watch the ships. We'd play this stupid game where we'd invent stories about each one that came or went. Where it came from, where it was going, who was on board and where they wanted the winds to take them." The thought of stowing away was always at the back of his mind, and he knew the others thought it too, but none of them ever worked up the courage to run away into something unknown. There was that fear that it could be worse than what little comfort they knew.
"I don't know what became of any of my childhood friends," he admitted, with some degree of regret. "They're probably still there. They probably have families and jobs and responsibilities. I should ask after them sometime, but... sometimes I think it might be better, not knowing the answer." Even in Denerim, even with the positive influence of King Alistair and Warden-Queen Cousland, bad things still happened to the elves. Culture was not something that could be changed overnight, or in a decade.
She hummed thoughtfully, steering them around a few closed fishmonger's stalls and towards the harbor proper. The dockworkers didn't pay them any mind, except to offer the occasional nod if they made eye contact or the like. One of the docks was currently empty, a wooden jut out into the water that offered a nice view of the smooth, glassy surface out beyond. The sun would sink out that way soon, and set the sea on fire with color, but that was a ways off yet. “I've been lucky," she observed. “It always seems like I find my way back to my friends, or they find their ways back to me, even when I think it won't happen. I hadn't seen Julien in two and a half years. Or Kess or Gauvain or the Costanzas. Before all this, I was never sure when I'd see Cyrus again. And somehow it seems like Kirkwall's never far."
Under her cloak, she crossed her arms. “It's... comfortable. Knowing they're all around. But if it were Minrathous, I don't know. Sometimes I feel like the less I think about there, the better." Perhaps for similar reasons.
Vesryn found himself wishing he had made more connections in the years after leaving Denerim. Better connections. He'd spent so much time alone, trying to figure out Saraya, and then when he had decided to rejoin the world, it was with mercenaries. Not Stel's group, either, good people all around, hand picked and molded by a leader that really cared. No, the ones he'd known were a ragtag bunch, not even many he'd consider good people, but simply men and women that weren't sure what to do with themselves and their skills. It paid his way, it allowed him to train, but it wasn't fulfilling work, nor did he make many connections he valued. He left as soon as he felt he was ready.
And then he'd allowed himself to grow attached to a place, to people. To finally let his secret slip to someone he thought he could trust. A wonderful feeling that would be turned against him eventually. He never wanted to go through that again, and it had made him all the more careful about what people he was willing to trust. Stel had earned every bit of the trust she had from him, because unlike in his past, she asked for so little in return. Often nothing at all.
"Have I ever mentioned what made me leave?" he asked. "The thing that finally pushed me into running, rebelling, and stumbling right into Saraya?"
Stel nodded once, moving her attention from the water up to his face. She huffed slightly, an amused sound, it seemed from the half-smile that went with. “I believe your exact words were 'shoddy arranged marriage,' but I could be misremembering that. You hadn't intended it to be a permanent departure, as I recall."
Had he phrased it like that? Vesryn barely even remembered it himself. It must've slipped when he'd first explained how he came to be with Saraya. He felt vaguely annoyed by his own words. Things had changed him, since then...
"It was, yeah. It's not an uncommon thing for us, arrangements with other families, sometimes from other Alienages." Alienages had a way of becoming... a little too insular, too few families with children all finding their way to one another. Thus the elders often tried to arrange for exchanges between communities. It helped to spread knowledge, as well, and strengthen the bonds between the cities. "I was eighteen, my bride-to-be sixteen. But... I never even met her. We didn't even know her name. She was just 'the girl from Gwaren' and they kept telling me I was lucky." Lucky enough to be wanted for such a thing, to be deemed valuable enough to put into a marriage that would strengthen the community.
"I didn't think much of myself, but I suppose I was actually something of a catch, if something or someone could calm me down." A smile played at his lips. "I didn't look like I do now, of course, but I've always been pretty. Not half as pretty as you are, but they hoped I'd impress the girl, all the same."
Stel rolled her eyes, knocking him in the arm with her elbow only gently. She shook her head, but there was a little smile on her face. As much embarrassed as amused, maybe, but in good humor nevertheless. “And what else would you need, really?" she drawled, clearly poking fun, but she didn't linger on it. “But you... what? Got nervous? Upset, maybe?"
"Quite a bit of both. I was... well, I was still a kid, and I was being told to marry another kid, and to me that was the death of my freedom, the start of inescapable monotony." Not that he'd had much freedom to begin with, but it had always come with the lack of any responsibility to any other person or thing that he'd had. If he became tied to someone, tied to the place he lived in and the people he lived with like that, he would've been forced to change. In a way that he simply hadn't been ready for, but couldn't bring himself to convince anyone of. "And I suppose I was afraid. I knew I wasn't ready for it, and felt with such certainty that I would disappoint her, the girl from Gwaren. Then I would disappoint my parents, the hahren, everyone I lived with. I don't think I thought it through, but... maybe by running I was just getting it over with."
Replacing doubt with certainty, in a way that felt right to him at the time. He couldn't find the words, so he used action instead, and had hoped it would be enough to express how badly he wanted to keep his freedom. Instead he never came home. The first people he abandoned.
"I think what bothers me the most," he continued, not distraught by any means, but certainly with regret, "is that I didn't give that girl a chance. She came to Denerim and found that her groom had run away without even seeing her face or knowing her name. For all I know, she might've made me happy. I might've done the same for her. Instead, I can't even imagine what she thought of me. How much that must've hurt." Because he knew that there were some people that would take such a thing deeply personally, see it as a failing of their own, even if they had nothing to do with it. "I hope she was able to find someone else."
“It... probably didn't feel the best at first," Estella agreed, shifting slightly where she stood. “But who knows? Maybe it was a relief. At least, if it had happened to me at sixteen, I probably would have been relieved, in the end. And I'm... well." She made a small, vague gesture with her hand. It wasn't too hard to figure out that she meant her rather apparent sensitivity to the opinions of other people. “So I think she probably did. You could always ask your parents, when you write next. If you don't mind knowing."
"I think I will," he said, nodding. "One thing I've determined from coming here is that I can't afford to let any more connections slip away from me. Not when the world is this dangerous. I've always acted like I've had unlimited time, but... anything could happen to them, or to me. So I need to make the most of it." Of course, he didn't plan on letting anything happen to anyone, but the world was rarely so kind as to let plans go off without a hitch. He stared out at the water a moment, now bathed in an orange sheen as the sun sank lower and lower towards the horizon.
"Thanks for listening to me, it... it felt good to say. I've, uh, been wondering." His tone grew softer, the way he knew it did when he was about to ask questions of her that he felt might be difficult. He knew this had to be approached carefully. "Have you thought any more about... the things I said to you? After everything that happened with Astraia, and Zeth."
She looked at her feet almost immediately, but then embarrassment wasn't really an unusual reaction from her. “That's a silly question," she said softly, shaking her head. “You tell a person something like that, there's no way they don't think about it." She cleared her throat, gathering the wherewithal to lift her eyes and smile wryly. “No one's ever said anything like that to me before. It's honestly... difficult, for me to believe. Hard to see past all the reasons I have for not believing it."
The smile fell away. “I'm not—" Stel paused, clearly trying to work out what she wanted to say. “I don't know how to do this kind of thing. If it's, uh... a thing. At all. Which I might have just read into what you said without actually asking about, now that I get to thinking about it. But, um, please don't answer that for a second." She held up a hand in front of herself palm out, but then her fingers curled in slightly and she dropped it.
Pulling in a slow breath, she grimaced, smoothed it out, then spoke. “You're... you're amazing, Ves. Really. I know you say silly things about yourself a lot, and I know you might occasionally mean them, usually when Saraya's involved, but I mean you. And I do. Mean it, that is." Her face was turning an impressive shade of red, particularly in a thick band over her cheeks and nose. “You're... you're funny and you're clever, and you always make me feel like everything's going to be all right. And when there's a fight and it comes down to it, I feel better, knowing I'm going into it with you. Not because of your skill, or Saraya's or anything like that, but because I know you care about what I care about, and so anytime you're wading in with me... it's the right thing to do."
She dropped her eyes for a moment. “And you are pretty, I admit it, and I've always thought so, because, well, I have eyes, but more than that you're—I don't even know everything that you are yet, and that's terrifying and also incredible. Because I like you a little more every time I learn something new."
Her breath gusted out in a rush before she regained it. “And I do like you—quite a lot. I think maybe, with some time, I could... more than like you. But this isn't—I'm not—I'm rambling. I'm sorry. It's just that I have no idea what I'm doing or even what you want out of this. Not that you have to have decided. I don't know what I want out of this, except that I probably can't do, um. Anything too... casual. I'm not really made for it, I don't think." It wasn't clear if she'd actually run out of words or just forced herself to stop using them, but the latter was likely, considering her sigh.
It was a lot more of an answer than what he was expecting, that much was for sure, and Vesryn couldn't help but be smiling through it, even if he knew that was just going to make her more red in the face. He felt about as light as air from everything that spilled out of her, and the idea that he might be able to make her feel that way, even a little bit, for a small moment, was the most tantalizing thing in the world.
"There's reason for that, the casual thing that you've seen me do. It's..." he exhaled a breath. It seemed like each passing month brought some new thing he wanted to change about himself. This was something he'd wanted to change a while ago, but he hadn't really spoken of it, because... well, his candidates for speaking were her and her brother, really. "You've seen what came of the last time I didn't take something casually. It hurt, and I think it still hurts. I imagine I probably seem like someone sincere, open with myself, but... honestly, I've always had trouble letting people in." The beginnings of it had been true even before he had Saraya, but it became much worse after. Trusting wasn't easy, not when someone else's well being was tied up in it. Someone he also cared for deeply. Only...
"But with you, it's been the easiest thing. To trust you, to care about you. The idea of anything between us being casual or empty... I can't stand the thought of that. I don't want to run from things I feel anymore, I don't want to guarantee a lesser evil just because the chance at real good comes with risk." And he didn't believe anything Stel could ever do would hurt him. Not in the ways that mattered. After everything they'd been through, he'd seen the person she was clearly enough. And that was a person he wanted to be better for, as she had already made him better in more ways than she knew.
"What I want out of this is to make you happy, because that's what you already do for me. Not casual, but simple. We don't have enough simple things in our lives." And sometimes the simplest things were the most beautiful, the most worth fighting for.
Her face lit up with her smile, bright as any she'd ever worn in his company. “Simple's good," she agreed. The smile faded a little, but she reached out and took one of his hands with hers, the unmarked one. Her palm was actually quite small, her fingers slender, but roughened with the evidence of all her hours of practice. “And maybe... maybe risk isn't all bad, either."
Stel hesitated for a clear moment, then rose quickly onto her toes, leaning just a bit to the side. Her hand squeezed gently over his in the same moment her lips pressed to his cheek. It was only a quick little contact, and even a bit clumsy, perhaps due in part to the discrepancy in their heights. She landed back on her heels with a shy quirk to her mouth, clearing her throat. “Um. That was—thank you. For all of this. I couldn't have done it without you. And it means... all of it means more than I can say."
"I'm glad I could help. I'm glad we could help each other." He wouldn't tolerate a second of her thinking she owed him a debt. Not after everything she'd done for him, this venture being the first thing she ever asked in return. The difference between them in experience was... well, it was quite severe, but next to everything else that part really didn't matter. What mattered was the admission, and the opening of the way forward, however slowly they wanted to go.
He gestured sideways with his head, strands of silver-white hair tipping away from his face in the light breeze. He solidified a steady hold around her hand. "We should head to that market, don't you think? I'm famished."
She nodded, shifting her hand so that their fingers laced together. “Let's."