Estella had always been more of a dozer than a deep sleeper. She fell asleep easily, but woke quickly if she sensed something irregular.
In some ways, that was probably a holdover from childhood, when she'd supplemented for nights spent more often out of bed than in with light naps. It had been important to be able to wake up when an adult passed by, step out of whatever corner she'd tucked herself in, and pretend to be hard at work memorizing the Chant or sweeping or whatever else. Like so many things, it was really Cy's fault, but it had served her well enough as a mercenary, when quick awareness and battle-readiness was essential.
It also meant, however, that she knew Ves had stirred beside her despite what were no doubt his best efforts not to disturb her, to let her get the rest he insisted she needed. She cracked her eyes open, letting them adjust to the dim light filtering in through the tower window. His silhouette came into view at the edge of the bed's right side, where he sat facing away from her. His breathing was soft, but staccato, faster than it should have been. She frowned, pushing the blankets back and extracting her feet from them. Swinging herself sideways and sliding so she was sitting next to him, Estella touched her feet to the rug on the stone floor beneath her. A hand found his back; she swallowed thickly. This close, she could make out a faint sheen where he'd perspired. It wasn't especially warm in the room, which meant it was caused by something else.
She moved a strand of slightly-damp hair behind one of his ears, then leaned her forehead against his shoulder, letting her eyes fall shut again. He'd speak if there was anything to say. If there wasn't well, she'd just... be here. It was all she could do, and she hated that with every bit of herself.
He exhaled at her touch, with just a hint of disappointment. Probably that he'd woken her. "This is where I'm supposed to say we shouldn't do this, since I'm disturbing you," he said, confirming it. "But I seem to have underestimated how difficult that is." His hands remained planted palms down on the bed, seemingly more for stability than anything, and though he kept his emerald eyes down towards the floor, he tilted his head to rest lightly against hers. There was a certain amount of strain to his tone, giving away the state of discomfort he was in. He bore pain evenly and with experience, but it was impossible to hide from her.
Steadily, however, his breathing slowed to a normal cadence. "And besides, I've already moved most of my things, and I'm too lazy to take them back." His cheek shifted against her head as he smiled. It was true; he'd wasted little time after the return to Skyhold before he began moving his belongings up from the room he'd occupied in the Herald's Rest. His gear and armor he kept close at hand, always polished to a shine. He hadn't been able to wear it since the accident with Khari in Rilien's tower.
A little gust escaped her, a breathy huff rendered stiller and softer by the late hour. And perhaps by the quiet of the moment itself. Estella opened her eyes again, her eyelashes brushing the fine fabric of his sleeve. "I'd be more disturbed if you were somewhere else and I had to wonder how you were doing," she replied, all traces of amusement quickly gone. It was true, even if it was a difficult kind of thing to say. The dark made it easier, maybe, and the quiet. Her free hand moved to rest gently atop his; her sigh billowed back into her face when she released it, stirring the little hairs that licked over her cheeks.
"Is there anything I can do? Tea, or a walk on the walls, maybe?" Realistically, she knew those things wouldn't make much difference; if talented healers and brilliant researchers couldn't offer any solutions, none of the silly little things she could do were going to solve anything. Estella's jaw tightened; she swallowed back a lump in her throat, pushing down the ache that felt like it was constricting her heart. However well he bore it, Ves was in pain—the thought was at once unbearable and something she had to accept. Realizing that didn't help it sit any easier.
"I hate to say it, but if the past few weeks are any indication, it won't do much." He took in a long breath and exhaled it, his upper body rising and falling with the action. "The pain comes and goes when it wishes, and nothing we do seems to have much effect on that. And... it is getting worse, not better." There had been some hope before that this might be a temporary affliction, that whatever was wrong with him would simply right itself over time, if he took things slow and didn't strain his mind or body. But apparently Ves's hope in that had now faded. He knew his mind, and Saraya's, far better than anyone else could hope to.
"It isn't too much right now, though, so," he paused, shifting slightly on the bed so that they could look at each other rather than just lean into each other. "I think it's probably past time I spoke about this with Cyrus." He and Harellan had been doing what they could to identify the problem, which was honestly not much. But if Ves wanted to speak with them, it meant he was hoping to be able to do something about the problem, not just know what it was. "So we could take a walk to his tower, if you're up for that. Surely he's still awake."
"I'm sure he is." Cyrus had never been especially good at taking care of himself, but where many of his habits in that regard had improved recently, sleep was a more sensitive issue now than it had used to be. He'd always been a late-night sort of person anyway.
With some reluctance, Estella stood, considering her state of dress and frowning. A cloak and some shoes would do. She wasn't underdressed, just in very old, loose clothes. Nothing worth delaying for, in any case. She lit a small magelight over her head, dimming it several degrees so it wouldn't be obvious from far away, and they made their way from the main keep building up to the walls. Cyrus's tower wasn't too far, and when they got close enough, it was easy to see the lights still on inside.
"Cy?" she called, knocking a few times. "We need to talk to you." Normally she would have just gone right in, but she did have a lingering sense of rudeness if only for the hour it was.
Late hour or not, Cyrus answered the door almost immediately. He was still dressed for the day, though his hair had long since fallen out of its queue to hover around his ears. His eyes moved from Estella to Ves, putting his observations together with his information as rapidly as he always did. With a grimace, he stepped aside. “I thought you might be by soon." It wasn't completely clear if their appearance now was good news or bad, but he certainly wasn't acting like he had something particularly interesting to tell them, which was not a promising sign.
Inside the atelier, Harellan was sitting at one of the chairs, a book held carefully open in both hands, but as soon as they stepped inside, he closed it delicately and stood, gesturing for Ves to take his seat and moving another few of the scattered pieces of furniture into some kind of cluster so they could all be comfortable, presumably. "I hope you will forgive me for saying so, but you are not looking at all recovered." There was a subtle undertone of concern in the words, though they were delivered with a collected expression, nothing but a slight pinch of his eyebrows to give away that this was anything but an ordinary visit.
"I certainly don't feel recovered," Ves said, sinking heavily into the offered seat. Some frustration had slipped into his tone of voice, and upon sitting he immediately propped his elbow on the arm rest, raising his right hand to let his temple settled against his knuckles. He looked to be immensely tired, and at the same time quite incapable of rest. "I'm pretty sure Saraya feels it's well past time we had a more purposeful discussion on this."
The trap door above them opened soon after he'd said it, a pair of Dalish-made boots the first thing to descend down the ladder. "Did I hear—ah. Hey, you two." Astraia had a large blanket piled over one shoulder, and while it wasn't an unreasonably cold night given the late spring temperatures, the extra warmth certainly would've been welcome for laying outside and looking up at the stars, as she had undoubtedly been doing. She stopped at the bottom of the ladder, setting down a small bag of her things. "Is everything alright?"
Ves noted the concern on her face, and moved his hand away from his head, a clear but poor attempt to mask pain. "Not particularly. The pain's getting worse, not better. I can still function, but... fighting is even further out of the question now. We need to find a way to make this problem go away, since it's become apparent that it won't do so on its own."
"Oh." Astraia searched the room a moment, picking an unoccupied chair and placing herself in it. "I'm sorry to hear that." She quietly began to fold up the blanket, intent on hearing whatever they discussed.
Cyrus had elected to sit on the back of his armchair, his feet resting on the seat cushion, and lean forward so that his elbows were on his knees. He glanced almost immediately at Harellan, who pursed his lips.
Settling into a different chair, her pressed his fingertips together in his lap. "I've attempted to contact some of those I know who would be better informed about such matters than I." He didn't say exactly how he'd done that, but there were few enough possibilities that it probably didn't really matter. "There might be a solution, but if so, it would be in a place called the Archive, and gaining access to it is not a simple matter." His expression twisted down into a slight frown. "I'm not... welcome, there. Not anymore. Neither are outsiders."
“I'm sensing a 'but' here."
Harellan nodded, but he didn't look especially pleased about it. "Technically, two among you don't count as outsiders. I might be anathema, but you aren't. If you were to claim your birthright and succeed in doing so, you would have as much right to the Archive as anyone. And therefore access to the information we need."
Ves had perked up visibly at the mention of the location. "This Archive," he said, straightening in his seat. "Saraya's familiar with it. Naturally I'm not, I've never been far out of the south, but... I think she's surprised to hear of it. She... expected it would be gone by now. But it still exists?"
Harellan nodded. "Yes, though like everything else, it does so in diminished form. Properly, it is called Vir Dirthara, and it currently exists in the Between."
“Which means it's accessible by Eluvian." Cyrus tilted his head, expression thoughtful. “Probably not just any path will get us to such a place, though."
"Quite right on both counts, which is why someone will need my people's permission to use theirs, as it's the only one that will lead there."
It didn't take a genius of her brother's caliber to put it all together, to be sure. "What do I need to do?" Estella glanced between them. "Talk to someone over an Eluvian? Travel through one to meet with these contacts?" Whether she would do whatever was required of her to claim this supposed birthright wasn't even a real question, because there was only one possible answer.
Harellan shook his head. "A great deal more than that, I am afraid." He looked thoughtful for a moment, his eyes narrowing to a sliver of leaf-green iris. "The magical ways into Arlathan are closed to me now. If we want to get there, we will have no choice but to do it in the mundane manner. And then... I do not know. You will almost certainly be forced to prove that you are who you claim to be. That could take many forms, but I would not expect it to be easy."
"Nothing is easy," Estella replied, almost under her breath. Going to Arlathan, though... that would require returning to Tevinter. She couldn't say she'd ever planned on that, and what was more, it would take a great deal of time. Something the Inquisition may not have a great deal of. Even so, she knew that their road would take them there eventually—Marcus's involvement all but guaranteed that.
She chewed her lip. "I'll see how soon we can go. Given that our navy is one ship, I don't think we'll be able to leave before the others head for Minrathous, and that's dependent upon things we have no control over." But this—even the faint hope of a possible solution—admittedly had her considering making it a personal request of Zahra, who would almost surely oblige. It was difficult not to march out the door right now and ask.
But she couldn't do that. She was Inquisitor, and the people here all depended on her to act like it. She had to handle this rationally, even when everything she felt pushed her towards exactly the opposite. She glanced at Ves, anxiousness scrawled over her face as clear as daylight. "That might be months yet."
Harellan sighed quietly through his nose. "It's not a matter of just marching in, either." He delivered that gently, but in no uncertain terms. "There are protections around and in the forest that inhibit the entry or exploration of people not meant to be there. It will take me some time to convince those I still trust to make us a safer path in." His lips thinned. "The delay would be the same, I expect—it's not your fault."
"However long it takes, we'll endure," Ves assured them, the we referring to the pair of minds that occupied his one head. He exhaled heavily, looking around at them all. "I know better than to try to stop any of you from risking yourselves to help me. It helps to think it isn't just me." His eyes no longer focused on any of them, instead absently picking a spot somewhere on the floor. "I'm not nearly done with you yet, woman. I aim to grow as old as you are before we part."
Astraia smiled a little at that, the neatly folded blanket resting in her lap. She'd been carefully following the information laid out, and her eyes now sought out Harellan's. "Would others be allowed to enter the forest with them? If there's any way I can help, I want to."
"Well, seeing as how I'm going and Vesryn essentially must, I suppose I ought to make sure my terms include one more." Harellan smiled slightly, though it was only small, as befit the mood. "In practice, I don't think it will make any difference. They will not be pleased with the intrusion in any case, but they will simply have to adjust to it."
Glancing between their faces, he continued. "The hour is late. Which means it's an ideal opportunity for me to get started. I'll be in the basement if anything else comes up." He offered no advice, well aware of how pointless such an exercise would be, no doubt. It was a problem for which ordinary remedies were no help at all.
Cyrus watched their uncle leave, frowning a bit. “I suppose we'll just have to trust him."
Estella wasn't exactly sure what would prompt him to say something like that, but now wasn't really the time to ask. There hadn't been many solid answers yet, but at least there was some kind of trajectory. A path she could follow, that had a hope at the end. A small one, to be sure, but one she could actively work towards. Harellan had implied that she would need to prove herself in some way. That meant that the thing to do now was prepare for that, and try to account for all the possibilities. She couldn't fail. She didn't have the luxury of more chances.
"We will," she agreed. "But I don't think he'd have brought something like this up if there wasn't a real possibility it would make a difference." Shifting her attention to Ves, she half-smiled. "Should we head back to the keep, then?"
"Let's." He got up from his seat carefully, not entirely unlike an older man no longer quite as confident in the balance of his body. "Sleep can't evade me forever."
In some ways, that was probably a holdover from childhood, when she'd supplemented for nights spent more often out of bed than in with light naps. It had been important to be able to wake up when an adult passed by, step out of whatever corner she'd tucked herself in, and pretend to be hard at work memorizing the Chant or sweeping or whatever else. Like so many things, it was really Cy's fault, but it had served her well enough as a mercenary, when quick awareness and battle-readiness was essential.
It also meant, however, that she knew Ves had stirred beside her despite what were no doubt his best efforts not to disturb her, to let her get the rest he insisted she needed. She cracked her eyes open, letting them adjust to the dim light filtering in through the tower window. His silhouette came into view at the edge of the bed's right side, where he sat facing away from her. His breathing was soft, but staccato, faster than it should have been. She frowned, pushing the blankets back and extracting her feet from them. Swinging herself sideways and sliding so she was sitting next to him, Estella touched her feet to the rug on the stone floor beneath her. A hand found his back; she swallowed thickly. This close, she could make out a faint sheen where he'd perspired. It wasn't especially warm in the room, which meant it was caused by something else.
She moved a strand of slightly-damp hair behind one of his ears, then leaned her forehead against his shoulder, letting her eyes fall shut again. He'd speak if there was anything to say. If there wasn't well, she'd just... be here. It was all she could do, and she hated that with every bit of herself.
He exhaled at her touch, with just a hint of disappointment. Probably that he'd woken her. "This is where I'm supposed to say we shouldn't do this, since I'm disturbing you," he said, confirming it. "But I seem to have underestimated how difficult that is." His hands remained planted palms down on the bed, seemingly more for stability than anything, and though he kept his emerald eyes down towards the floor, he tilted his head to rest lightly against hers. There was a certain amount of strain to his tone, giving away the state of discomfort he was in. He bore pain evenly and with experience, but it was impossible to hide from her.
Steadily, however, his breathing slowed to a normal cadence. "And besides, I've already moved most of my things, and I'm too lazy to take them back." His cheek shifted against her head as he smiled. It was true; he'd wasted little time after the return to Skyhold before he began moving his belongings up from the room he'd occupied in the Herald's Rest. His gear and armor he kept close at hand, always polished to a shine. He hadn't been able to wear it since the accident with Khari in Rilien's tower.
A little gust escaped her, a breathy huff rendered stiller and softer by the late hour. And perhaps by the quiet of the moment itself. Estella opened her eyes again, her eyelashes brushing the fine fabric of his sleeve. "I'd be more disturbed if you were somewhere else and I had to wonder how you were doing," she replied, all traces of amusement quickly gone. It was true, even if it was a difficult kind of thing to say. The dark made it easier, maybe, and the quiet. Her free hand moved to rest gently atop his; her sigh billowed back into her face when she released it, stirring the little hairs that licked over her cheeks.
"Is there anything I can do? Tea, or a walk on the walls, maybe?" Realistically, she knew those things wouldn't make much difference; if talented healers and brilliant researchers couldn't offer any solutions, none of the silly little things she could do were going to solve anything. Estella's jaw tightened; she swallowed back a lump in her throat, pushing down the ache that felt like it was constricting her heart. However well he bore it, Ves was in pain—the thought was at once unbearable and something she had to accept. Realizing that didn't help it sit any easier.
"I hate to say it, but if the past few weeks are any indication, it won't do much." He took in a long breath and exhaled it, his upper body rising and falling with the action. "The pain comes and goes when it wishes, and nothing we do seems to have much effect on that. And... it is getting worse, not better." There had been some hope before that this might be a temporary affliction, that whatever was wrong with him would simply right itself over time, if he took things slow and didn't strain his mind or body. But apparently Ves's hope in that had now faded. He knew his mind, and Saraya's, far better than anyone else could hope to.
"It isn't too much right now, though, so," he paused, shifting slightly on the bed so that they could look at each other rather than just lean into each other. "I think it's probably past time I spoke about this with Cyrus." He and Harellan had been doing what they could to identify the problem, which was honestly not much. But if Ves wanted to speak with them, it meant he was hoping to be able to do something about the problem, not just know what it was. "So we could take a walk to his tower, if you're up for that. Surely he's still awake."
"I'm sure he is." Cyrus had never been especially good at taking care of himself, but where many of his habits in that regard had improved recently, sleep was a more sensitive issue now than it had used to be. He'd always been a late-night sort of person anyway.
With some reluctance, Estella stood, considering her state of dress and frowning. A cloak and some shoes would do. She wasn't underdressed, just in very old, loose clothes. Nothing worth delaying for, in any case. She lit a small magelight over her head, dimming it several degrees so it wouldn't be obvious from far away, and they made their way from the main keep building up to the walls. Cyrus's tower wasn't too far, and when they got close enough, it was easy to see the lights still on inside.
"Cy?" she called, knocking a few times. "We need to talk to you." Normally she would have just gone right in, but she did have a lingering sense of rudeness if only for the hour it was.
Late hour or not, Cyrus answered the door almost immediately. He was still dressed for the day, though his hair had long since fallen out of its queue to hover around his ears. His eyes moved from Estella to Ves, putting his observations together with his information as rapidly as he always did. With a grimace, he stepped aside. “I thought you might be by soon." It wasn't completely clear if their appearance now was good news or bad, but he certainly wasn't acting like he had something particularly interesting to tell them, which was not a promising sign.
Inside the atelier, Harellan was sitting at one of the chairs, a book held carefully open in both hands, but as soon as they stepped inside, he closed it delicately and stood, gesturing for Ves to take his seat and moving another few of the scattered pieces of furniture into some kind of cluster so they could all be comfortable, presumably. "I hope you will forgive me for saying so, but you are not looking at all recovered." There was a subtle undertone of concern in the words, though they were delivered with a collected expression, nothing but a slight pinch of his eyebrows to give away that this was anything but an ordinary visit.
"I certainly don't feel recovered," Ves said, sinking heavily into the offered seat. Some frustration had slipped into his tone of voice, and upon sitting he immediately propped his elbow on the arm rest, raising his right hand to let his temple settled against his knuckles. He looked to be immensely tired, and at the same time quite incapable of rest. "I'm pretty sure Saraya feels it's well past time we had a more purposeful discussion on this."
The trap door above them opened soon after he'd said it, a pair of Dalish-made boots the first thing to descend down the ladder. "Did I hear—ah. Hey, you two." Astraia had a large blanket piled over one shoulder, and while it wasn't an unreasonably cold night given the late spring temperatures, the extra warmth certainly would've been welcome for laying outside and looking up at the stars, as she had undoubtedly been doing. She stopped at the bottom of the ladder, setting down a small bag of her things. "Is everything alright?"
Ves noted the concern on her face, and moved his hand away from his head, a clear but poor attempt to mask pain. "Not particularly. The pain's getting worse, not better. I can still function, but... fighting is even further out of the question now. We need to find a way to make this problem go away, since it's become apparent that it won't do so on its own."
"Oh." Astraia searched the room a moment, picking an unoccupied chair and placing herself in it. "I'm sorry to hear that." She quietly began to fold up the blanket, intent on hearing whatever they discussed.
Cyrus had elected to sit on the back of his armchair, his feet resting on the seat cushion, and lean forward so that his elbows were on his knees. He glanced almost immediately at Harellan, who pursed his lips.
Settling into a different chair, her pressed his fingertips together in his lap. "I've attempted to contact some of those I know who would be better informed about such matters than I." He didn't say exactly how he'd done that, but there were few enough possibilities that it probably didn't really matter. "There might be a solution, but if so, it would be in a place called the Archive, and gaining access to it is not a simple matter." His expression twisted down into a slight frown. "I'm not... welcome, there. Not anymore. Neither are outsiders."
“I'm sensing a 'but' here."
Harellan nodded, but he didn't look especially pleased about it. "Technically, two among you don't count as outsiders. I might be anathema, but you aren't. If you were to claim your birthright and succeed in doing so, you would have as much right to the Archive as anyone. And therefore access to the information we need."
Ves had perked up visibly at the mention of the location. "This Archive," he said, straightening in his seat. "Saraya's familiar with it. Naturally I'm not, I've never been far out of the south, but... I think she's surprised to hear of it. She... expected it would be gone by now. But it still exists?"
Harellan nodded. "Yes, though like everything else, it does so in diminished form. Properly, it is called Vir Dirthara, and it currently exists in the Between."
“Which means it's accessible by Eluvian." Cyrus tilted his head, expression thoughtful. “Probably not just any path will get us to such a place, though."
"Quite right on both counts, which is why someone will need my people's permission to use theirs, as it's the only one that will lead there."
It didn't take a genius of her brother's caliber to put it all together, to be sure. "What do I need to do?" Estella glanced between them. "Talk to someone over an Eluvian? Travel through one to meet with these contacts?" Whether she would do whatever was required of her to claim this supposed birthright wasn't even a real question, because there was only one possible answer.
Harellan shook his head. "A great deal more than that, I am afraid." He looked thoughtful for a moment, his eyes narrowing to a sliver of leaf-green iris. "The magical ways into Arlathan are closed to me now. If we want to get there, we will have no choice but to do it in the mundane manner. And then... I do not know. You will almost certainly be forced to prove that you are who you claim to be. That could take many forms, but I would not expect it to be easy."
"Nothing is easy," Estella replied, almost under her breath. Going to Arlathan, though... that would require returning to Tevinter. She couldn't say she'd ever planned on that, and what was more, it would take a great deal of time. Something the Inquisition may not have a great deal of. Even so, she knew that their road would take them there eventually—Marcus's involvement all but guaranteed that.
She chewed her lip. "I'll see how soon we can go. Given that our navy is one ship, I don't think we'll be able to leave before the others head for Minrathous, and that's dependent upon things we have no control over." But this—even the faint hope of a possible solution—admittedly had her considering making it a personal request of Zahra, who would almost surely oblige. It was difficult not to march out the door right now and ask.
But she couldn't do that. She was Inquisitor, and the people here all depended on her to act like it. She had to handle this rationally, even when everything she felt pushed her towards exactly the opposite. She glanced at Ves, anxiousness scrawled over her face as clear as daylight. "That might be months yet."
Harellan sighed quietly through his nose. "It's not a matter of just marching in, either." He delivered that gently, but in no uncertain terms. "There are protections around and in the forest that inhibit the entry or exploration of people not meant to be there. It will take me some time to convince those I still trust to make us a safer path in." His lips thinned. "The delay would be the same, I expect—it's not your fault."
"However long it takes, we'll endure," Ves assured them, the we referring to the pair of minds that occupied his one head. He exhaled heavily, looking around at them all. "I know better than to try to stop any of you from risking yourselves to help me. It helps to think it isn't just me." His eyes no longer focused on any of them, instead absently picking a spot somewhere on the floor. "I'm not nearly done with you yet, woman. I aim to grow as old as you are before we part."
Astraia smiled a little at that, the neatly folded blanket resting in her lap. She'd been carefully following the information laid out, and her eyes now sought out Harellan's. "Would others be allowed to enter the forest with them? If there's any way I can help, I want to."
"Well, seeing as how I'm going and Vesryn essentially must, I suppose I ought to make sure my terms include one more." Harellan smiled slightly, though it was only small, as befit the mood. "In practice, I don't think it will make any difference. They will not be pleased with the intrusion in any case, but they will simply have to adjust to it."
Glancing between their faces, he continued. "The hour is late. Which means it's an ideal opportunity for me to get started. I'll be in the basement if anything else comes up." He offered no advice, well aware of how pointless such an exercise would be, no doubt. It was a problem for which ordinary remedies were no help at all.
Cyrus watched their uncle leave, frowning a bit. “I suppose we'll just have to trust him."
Estella wasn't exactly sure what would prompt him to say something like that, but now wasn't really the time to ask. There hadn't been many solid answers yet, but at least there was some kind of trajectory. A path she could follow, that had a hope at the end. A small one, to be sure, but one she could actively work towards. Harellan had implied that she would need to prove herself in some way. That meant that the thing to do now was prepare for that, and try to account for all the possibilities. She couldn't fail. She didn't have the luxury of more chances.
"We will," she agreed. "But I don't think he'd have brought something like this up if there wasn't a real possibility it would make a difference." Shifting her attention to Ves, she half-smiled. "Should we head back to the keep, then?"
"Let's." He got up from his seat carefully, not entirely unlike an older man no longer quite as confident in the balance of his body. "Sleep can't evade me forever."