"Beauty In My Breakdown"
A not-brief-enough look at what Adder's fic might have been, if I hadn't been so damn ambitious.
i.
She knows something's wrong when she wakes to an empty bed. The place he should have been has long grown cold.
"Was it that bad?" She sits up, carefully, as she asks. She's sore and soothed and the insides of her thighs are sticky and she hates herself.
The lyrium. The ink. His skin. How could she have been so stupid?
He turns from the fireplace, stares at her for a long moment.
"No," he says, winding something red around his wrist, "no. It was fine."
The conversation can only go downhill from here.
An hour later, she knocks on her mother's door.
ii.
The crossbow fires almost without a sound. Bartrand sinks to the floor, not even looking surprised.
She watches Varric pull the bolt from his brother's chest, and remembers a knife slick with Carver's blood.
She turns to Fenris, but he looks away. She clasps a hand on Varric's shoulder.
iii.
"White lilies," she says. "I could swear I know something about that -"
Gamlen plays the naive fool. Denial, denial, denial. As if saying it wasn't true would make a lie of it.
She says, "Aveline and the guard. They'll help us look."
iv.
"This man is either very devoted, or very insane."
Adder swipes a finger through a puddle of blood, and wonders if it's still the killer's, or if he's moved on to bleeding someone else.
??? --> profit
Her mother once said, "There were four of us when the Blight began. It will never be over while there are just three."
She watches the fire and thinks: it was three of us who began this life - how can it continue with only one?
Adder can't even look up when Gamlen strides in.
She fell asleep next to a warm body, but wakes up alone. Her first thought is: I hope Mother didn't see him on his way out.
Her next thought is: Maker's breath, she was alive yesterday.
Alive yesterday. Not today.
She doesn't bother leaving her room.
Very devoted. Very insane. Fenris was right on both counts.
Alive yesterday. Not today.
He must have thrown the bedcurtains before he left. She doesn't remember drawing them herself last night. She doesn't often bother with them, anyway.
But this morning the curtains are down and her bed is warm and soft and dark. She pulls the covers over her head.
??? --> profit
"It's the redemption," the Desire demon says. "If you want to get to me, you'll have to go through her."
Aveline turns around.
The tip of Adder's staff strikes the floor.
"To face them as an equal," Fenris says, almost to himself.
She still thinks she can reason with him. She even tries. But he doesn't seem to hear her. He's forgotten her here just as surely as he forgot her in the waking world.
"What would you ask of me?"
"Only a moment of a your time," the Pride demon tells him.
Demons lie.
Demons always lie.
A question: if strength of will is the only true might in the Fade, and she has fallen to no demon's temptations, does that make her strong enough to win? Does she need Fenris, who walked away? Does she need Aveline? Does she need anyone at all, if they'll only turn on her or leave or die?
A second question: are those doubts the work of Pride?
i.
She knows something's wrong when she wakes to an empty bed. The place he should have been has long grown cold.
"Was it that bad?" She sits up, carefully, as she asks. She's sore and soothed and the insides of her thighs are sticky and she hates herself.
The lyrium. The ink. His skin. How could she have been so stupid?
He turns from the fireplace, stares at her for a long moment.
"No," he says, winding something red around his wrist, "no. It was fine."
The conversation can only go downhill from here.
An hour later, she knocks on her mother's door.
ii.
The crossbow fires almost without a sound. Bartrand sinks to the floor, not even looking surprised.
She watches Varric pull the bolt from his brother's chest, and remembers a knife slick with Carver's blood.
She turns to Fenris, but he looks away. She clasps a hand on Varric's shoulder.
iii.
"White lilies," she says. "I could swear I know something about that -"
Gamlen plays the naive fool. Denial, denial, denial. As if saying it wasn't true would make a lie of it.
She says, "Aveline and the guard. They'll help us look."
iv.
"This man is either very devoted, or very insane."
Adder swipes a finger through a puddle of blood, and wonders if it's still the killer's, or if he's moved on to bleeding someone else.
??? --> profit
Her mother once said, "There were four of us when the Blight began. It will never be over while there are just three."
She watches the fire and thinks: it was three of us who began this life - how can it continue with only one?
Adder can't even look up when Gamlen strides in.
She fell asleep next to a warm body, but wakes up alone. Her first thought is: I hope Mother didn't see him on his way out.
Her next thought is: Maker's breath, she was alive yesterday.
Alive yesterday. Not today.
She doesn't bother leaving her room.
Very devoted. Very insane. Fenris was right on both counts.
Alive yesterday. Not today.
He must have thrown the bedcurtains before he left. She doesn't remember drawing them herself last night. She doesn't often bother with them, anyway.
But this morning the curtains are down and her bed is warm and soft and dark. She pulls the covers over her head.
??? --> profit
"It's the redemption," the Desire demon says. "If you want to get to me, you'll have to go through her."
Aveline turns around.
The tip of Adder's staff strikes the floor.
"To face them as an equal," Fenris says, almost to himself.
She still thinks she can reason with him. She even tries. But he doesn't seem to hear her. He's forgotten her here just as surely as he forgot her in the waking world.
"What would you ask of me?"
"Only a moment of a your time," the Pride demon tells him.
Demons lie.
Demons always lie.
A question: if strength of will is the only true might in the Fade, and she has fallen to no demon's temptations, does that make her strong enough to win? Does she need Fenris, who walked away? Does she need Aveline? Does she need anyone at all, if they'll only turn on her or leave or die?
A second question: are those doubts the work of Pride?