faderift | [closed]

WHO: Gavin and Galadriel
WHAT: Gavin's going to utterly fail to bust her out
WHEN: Backdated to after the temple, before Solas' arrival
WHERE: The room where Galadriel is being held after the journey to the temple
NOTES: shit's goin' dooowwn.

Gavin had given up on expecting anyone to move before him, or with him. It was fine, he told himself. He had always done everything alone, had been used to feeling differently than most of his clan on most issues, and --

And he had at least made peace with Maxwell. So that was enough.

He had no doubts in his mind, then, as he took his shift on the wall to make sure that he was the sole guard of the battlements right above Galadriel's window. He'd promised Maxwell not to do anything rash, so he'd spent a good couple of days planning this out. The rope and climbing equipment he had stashed behind a loose rock in the wall, and as he pried it open, he was relieved to find everything still in there. The stake he'd put into the mortar the day before, hammering it in while others were working on the wall, to disguise the sound. So there was nothing to do now save tie the rope tightly to his waist, and to the stake, and slowly, carefully, scale down the stone wall of the fortress.

Galadriel's window was another problem - but one he had come prepared for. Swinging gently in the frigid wind, he wrapped one hand in fabric, a crystal held tightly in his palm, and brought out the rock he was going to use as a hammer. Positioning the cyrstal, he slammed the rock hard against it, the window shattering from the point of the crystal. The fabric muted the sound a little, but he still winced as glass tinkled down again stone, seemingly falling forever.

He didn't want to think about just how far down they would have to climb. He knocked out the remaining shards of glass with his wrapped fist, and then swung himself into the room, stumbling as he did so, which entirely ruined the heroic effect.

"Lady Galadriel," He said, breathlessly, struggling to pull himself upright, and make sure he wasn't tangled in his rope.

"I'm here to rescue you."

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Gavin stood there, deflated and confused, a rope clutched in his hand and the window behind him in pieces. He had planned this attempt well, had taken great risk to free her, but it was for naught. She shook her head as she replied; the smile that threatened to cross her face was lost to a grimace as she shifted toward him.

"I know you would not, but it is not in your power to prevent," Galadriel said. "I lack the ability to make your escape. I am injured."

She had taken some pains to mask her injury, if only because the sight of bruises distressed her so, but masking the wear on her form with power that taxed it was...if not expressly unwise, at least counterproductive. She rested her hand on the wall beside the bed and her sleeve shifted to reveal her arm, already the bruises were trying to reappear across her limbs.

"I cannot scale the walls, I am too weak."

His heart dropped into his stomach, immediately dropping the rope and rushing forward to her.

"What happened?" He cried, a little more loudly than was wise. "Did they-- who did this to you?"

It was fortunate Gavin intended her no harm, her reflexes were so reduced that she barely flinched as he spoke. Indeed, between his rapid approach and his words, she could barely conjure much of a reaction.

"No, it was not my captors," Galadriel said in an attempt to reassure him. Her choice of words was, perhaps, not ideal. She thought on how to explain what had happened, but it was too much and there were large swaths of it that she wished, very dearly, to forget.

"I will recover, trust me, but I cannot leave this place through the window." She was insistent and, after she'd finished, she realized the peril in having him here. "But you must go."

"I can carry you," He insisted, "Up to the wall - we won't be able to get out of the castle but we can get you out of here, hide for a while until - until--" But he didn't know the until what because he had no idea how, or if things were going to change. He reached out, taking her hands in his, and gripped them, careful not to touch the bruises.

"I'm not going anywhere without you," he said firmly. "Even if that means we just sit here. I - If they come in and find the window--"

He wasn't letting her take the blame for his own stupidity. He should have known, somehow. How did he not know she had been hurt? What could have possibly hurt her...?

Galadriel's surprise at his insistence, his offer to carry her, was blatant on her face. In all her long life, she had not--such sincerity was so rare--Perhaps it was because the temple had addled her, or he had woken her from ancient dreams, but Galadriel was moved by his words. She withdrew one of her hands from his and, without pause, drew him into an embrace.

"You are a dear soul," Galadriel said. To pull him close was painful, but only in the physical sense of it and that she could endure for a few moments. "Thank you, Gavin."

They would make no escape tonight and, though his concern would only condemn him, Galadriel was far too selfish to turn him out. He was a balm on her sorrow and she found she couldn't surrender that comfort.

He wasn't expecting the hug - was half convinced that she would demand that he leave, again, and preparing himself to argue. But instead he was drawn in against her, a foot shorter, just to illustrate how ludicrous his offer had been in the first place. But he would have tried. He would have succeeded, somehow. But she didn't need to say the words, for him to know her mind.

She would not leave.

He stood there in that embrace for a long moment, face pressed to her shoulder, his mind working quickly. Finally he drew in a deep breath, and extracted himself.

"You should sit back down," he said quietly, and then, louder - loud enough to be heard outside, he said: "Please, my lady! You must come with me! You can't stay here!"

Cassandra trusted the soldiers guarding Galadriel implicitly - she would not have entrusted such an important task to them otherwise. Yet even so, she worried. Between the visitors to Galadriel's cells and those who had approached Cassandra directly, there seemed to be more...unrest than she had expected concerning the rifter's imprisonment.

She had made her way up to the room where Galadriel was held to ensure that no one further had attempted to visit the prisoner, and to ensure that the guards had all that they needed, when a cry sounded from inside the room. She paused, shushing the guards and listening closely.

A few moments of silence, and then -

The next shout was unmistakable, and what she heard made her heart stop in her chest. She pushed past the guards, yanking the door open and bursting inside. What she saw made her stop in her tracks. Galadriel, standing and bent over an elf, one she faintly recognized as a longtime Inquisition scout. The broken window, the cold wind blowing through and ruffling the sleeves of Galadriel's dress. The rope lying abandoned on the floor.

Her face twisted into a sneer, and she advanced, hardly able to speak.

"You," she choked out, pointing a threatening finger at Gavin. "You would dare - "

But the words would not come. She was so angry, so afraid - it was a wonder Galadriel hadn't killed them all already. She took a deep breath, calling over her shoulder.

"Guards! Guards!"

Gavin withdrew from her arms, a resigned expression on his face, and Galadriel wasn't certain what to make of that. He urged her to sit and, as abruptly as he'd entered her room, he shouted a plea. Had he not angled his shout toward the door, she would have thought he spoke to her.

At once the door was thrown open and the Seeker--armed and armored even in the dead of night--burst in. Her shock melted to rage in seconds; the look she leveled at Gavin was truly foul. Her rage rendered her silent, if only for a beat, and then she called for the guard.

It didn't take much thought to realize what Gavin was doing; the Seeker's eyes had darted through the room and followed events easily enough. She was loathe to let him take this punishment but, more than that, she didn't wish to let him leave. She reached for his shoulder but the guards charged into the room with purposeful haste. They cut between them and took Gavin by the arms.

A threat waited on her tongue, but the Seeker had already earned her ire. If she threatened them, Gavin was the only one who would suffer. She leveled a heavy look at the human woman and she would have held it, until her heart knew true fear, but the guards moved past and ushered Gavin toward the door. Instead, she broke that glare and cast a sorrowful glance at the Dalish elf.

If they harmed him, she would take the cost of their trespass from their hides.

Gavin was - to put it frankly - scared shitless. Somehow he managed not to look it, but seeing Cassandra round on him like that, with pure vengeful rage, was absolutely terrifying.

He was simply proud of himself for not actually going white as a sheet.

He didn't fight the guards. Didn't talk back to Cassandra. He just lowered his eyes and co-operated fully as they led him away.

[closed]

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