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“Three!” At the count of three, both of them raise their mugs. If there was once thing he could always count on himself to be, it was competitive. She’s looking at him over the rim, smiling in-between gulps, before closing her eyes and focusing. They slam their mugs down on the table at the same time, flecks of foam landing on the wood, grinning at each other.

“Too close to call,” she says. Turning in her chair, raising her hand again, calling for more drinks. Cullen laughs, shakes his head.

“This is ridiculous,” he says.

“Good,” she tells him, “you’re allowed to be ridiculous once in a while.” By the third mug, there are people crowded around the table. Soldier, scout and every sort of person Skyhold has collected. Stomping their feet, clapping their hands, cheering as Cyriel’s mug lands before Cullen’s does. Sera is leaning dangerously over the railing, screaming Cyriel’s name as she wobbles back and forth. Coin is being exchanged, scouts triumphant in the support of one of their own. Cyriel whoops, laughing with her hands in the air, cheeks pink with delight.

“This is not fair,” he says with a smile, elbow on the table, pointing at her. “You’re already good at this.” Cyriel smirks as she leans over the table.

“Well, Commander, when we’re sober let’s try something in your area of expertise. Is it paperwork?” Cyriel says smugly.

“Oh you – you are on. And no, it’ll be something in the training arena,” he says. Her smile is infectious, and he can’t stop himself from mirroring her. When was the last time he had this much fun? When was the last time he felt at ease, not thinking about anything else? Soldiers have their hands cupped around their mouth, cheering his name, telling him to win. The table is cleared, another set of mugs set down before them.

“It’s a date,” Cyriel says, wrapping her hands around the mug.

“Here are your orders for today,” Cullen says as he pinches the bridge of his nose, “please. Please just take them. Quietly.” He finds the chair, sits carefully, ignoring the knowing grins his officers exchange. They do their best to walk softly, taking report after report, before finally leaving his office. Until only one is left. He feels terrible, he knows she must feel the same, but Maker, she still looks wonderful.

“How’s the hangover?” she asks with a smile. He makes a miserable grunt. “Me too.” She puts a small box on the table. “Make some tea with this. It’ll help.” He reaches out, his hand over hers, stopping her from leaving.

“Thank you, Cyriel. For this and – for last night. It was… It was a lot of fun,” he tells her with a smile. She happily smiles back.

“This is a very bad idea.” Robert said for what felt like the hundredth time.

If Grazham were in the mood to be honest with himself he might have agreed.

The long forgotten tunnel they traversed was littered with debris. Some little more than piles of dirt but others formed more intimidating obstacles, forcing the pair to climb, crawl, and shimmy to pass further.

It was by no means a safe nor sane place to go wandering but there were things to be done and if Grazham were to wait for what was safe or sane he would never get anything done.

Robert had been vocal enough about his doubts both back at Skyhold when Grazham had first agreed to the task and later before entering the mouth of the tunnel. As they descended though, Robert’s concerns became more frequent until it had become almost a sort of chant.

“So you’ve said,” Grazham sighed, allowing the smallest amount of exasperation to sneak into his voice. “Several times, in fact.”

He appreciated the concern, truly he did, but there were times when Robert’s kind attention felt too much. Too cloying. Too much like something he didn’t deserve. It made his words sharp, though he always found himself regretting them later.

“That being said, you didn’t have to come.” He continued, using his stave to nudge aside what appeared to be the remains of some timber braces. Chunks of dirt showered the floor as well as both men, but the tunnel held so Grazham foraged on ahead. “I’m sure the others could make better use of your mothering.”

It was meant as a joke but the long beat of silence that followed made Grazham flinch uncomfortably.

Perhaps he had gone too far, overstepped his bounds. He didn’t want to drive Robert away; quite the opposite, but it was difficult not to push. Difficult not to pursue.

Especially when he wasn’t sure Robert wanted to be pursued.

Thankfully, Robert broke the heavy silence easily, his voice so gentle that it actually hurt a little to hear it aloud.

“I would never leave you alone in a place like this,” said Robert seriously. His gaze never wavered, not even for a moment, as he stared into Grazham’s eyes.

The force of it, the sincerity in his gaze was too much for Grazham. Glancing away he could feel his cheeks burn and his heart thump uncomfortably in his chest.

It was unfair how Robert could throw him into turmoil so easily. For a man who showed so little interest in romance he let honeyed words drip from his lips far too easily.

“W-well it is strange that there would be an elven artifact hidden in such a place.”  Trying desperately to change the subject before he said something he regretted, Grazham glanced around at their surroundings. “Why would they hide it in a thaig of all places?”

“Perhaps it’s some sort of mistake?” Robert suggested, so hopefully that Grazham couldn’t help but smirk.

“Do you want to be the one to tell Solas you think he’s made a mistake?”

Roberts face shifted for a moment, cycling between emotions until he finally settled on resignation. It was clear that he knew as well as Grazham what awaited down that path.

A long and undoubtedly boring lecture about the history of the artifact as well as the thaig, and the entire history of elfdom if Solas had his way. Ending with them exactly where they were now.

“Point taken,” Robert sighed, his shoulders sagging in defeat.

With no further arguments to be levied, Robert could do little but follow as Grazham led them down into the darkness.

By the time they reached the thaig’s door it became apparent that Grazham was lucky that Robert had chosen to stay. It took the both of them to force away the heavy stone door that blocked the entrance. Together they managed to shift it just enough that they could squeeze through, though it was a tight fit.

Despite its title, the thaig in question certainly failed to live up to its name.

The room, barely larger than the main hall at Skyhold, was so decrepit that it looked ready to fall in on their head should they even sneeze wrong. It was unclear whether piles of rubble lined the walls or if the walls themselves had turned to rubble.

All in all it was underwhelming to be certain.

Raising his torch higher, Grazham took in what he could of the room. From what he could see there were no obvious signs of any artifacts but that didn’t mean there was nothing to be found.

At least he hoped not.

“Did Solas at least give us some sort of clue as to where this elven whatever might be hidden?” asked Robert, similarly daunted by the enormity of their task.

Reaching into the hidden pockets of his robes Grazham pulled out the notes Solas had given him. Lowering his torch Grazham stared down at the pages.

Solas’ writing was neat and clear and complete gibberish. Any landmarks that they might have used were long since gone and the dwarven map he’d provided was equally useless.

Shifting up behind, Robert watched from over Grazham’s shoulder, wincing at the now useless direction. Whoever these dwarves were they were about as good map makers as they were architects.

Turning the map this way and that, Grazham tried to make sense of it all. If he could get some sort of bearing it would be a start at least.

“I think it’s…over here” he said slowly, gesturing towards what he hoped was the north-east facing rubble wall.

To be honest Grazham wasn’t entirely sure that it was the right direction. To a point it all sort of looked the same. But standing around wasn’t going to accomplish anything and it was as good a starting point as any. So, as confidently as he could muster, Grazham head off in the most likely direction.

Together, torches in hand, they began to search.

It was filthy work, moving rocks, shifting through dirt and refuse. Any time something was moved, even down to the smallest pebble it seemed, debris would rain down from the ceiling. Dusting the pair in…well, Grazham preferred not to think about what it was too deeply.

In the dark it was hard to tell how much time had passed. By Grazham’s estimation it felt somewhere in the range of a thousand years.

Every pile of rocks and rubble yielded the same thing. Nothing.

It was by a simple stroke of luck that they found anything at all.

As they passed a partially collapsed wall, Robert paused.

“Is something the matter?” asked Grazham.

Robert reached over, tugging the parchment gently from Grazham’s hands. Glancing down at it, he leaned in closer to the wall, lowering his torch to get a better look.

“I think,” he said slowly, his fingertips tracing over the runes carved into the wall, “this may be what’s on Solas’ map.”

Glancing around, his eyes finally settled on what looked to be a stray pile of slate.

“If this marking is correct the chest should be over there.”

Working together, they managed to drag the heavy stones free. Finally a flash of silver emerged, uncovering to form a tarnished silver chest.

It was old. Not as old as the thaig, but still ancient. Even on the darkened metal Grazham could make out what looked to be elven markings.

“Is that it?” Robert whispered inspecting the box from every angle as though suspicious of its contents. “Are we sure it’s not a trap?”

Reaching out Grazham cast a half smile in Robert’s direction.

“I certainly hope not,” he joked lightly, though his heart pounded loudly in his ears, “or we are dead and have yet to find out.”

Perhaps it would have been more prudent to wait for someone who could disarm any possible traps but truth be told Grazham was more than a little tired of this particular task.

He was tired and covered head to toe in who knows what. Trap or no he was more than ready to be done with the whole thing.

Grabbing hold of the heavy metal clasp, Grazham heaved the lid open. When no heat, or pain, or blinding light followed he let out a small breath of relief and peaked further into the box.

There on the bottom was a small silver amulet. It matched Solas’ description perfectly and Grazham wasted no time snatching it up.

“Well that, as they say, is that,” Grazham said confidently, tucking the amulet into his belt pouch. “I would almost call it too easy.”

“From your mouth to the Maker’s ears,” Robert chided gently, though his tone held no serious scolding. “Though I might agree with you once I’m reminded of what the sun looks like.”

Grazham was about to respond with something reasonably witty when a low sound caught his ears. Raising a hand he cocked his head to the side, listening carefully into the darkness. Then he heard it again. The soft skittering hiss of movement across stone.

Grazham barely had time to toss aside his torch and free his stave before the spiders burst from the darkness. Massive furry monstrosities they almost looked like an encroaching wave of shadows themselves.

With barely a moment to think, Grazham swung out at the monsters. Grimacing as his stave connected he followed up with a fireball for good measure.

The scent of charred flesh filled the air but Grazham did not let it distract him.

From the corner of his eye he could see Robert take out yet another spider with his oversized sword. Alternating clumsily between his sword and his torch to keep the remaining few at bay.

His face was twisted into a grimace, as it always was when he was forced into battle.

Still, Grazham felt his chest clench disconcertingly at the sight of it. In the low light Robert’s skin seemed to glow like he was made of gold. The shadows casting his high cheekbones and squared jaw into sharp relief.

There was an intensity to it. The gap between Robert’s normal gentle self at the violence he was forced to defend himself against. Grazham could not find it in him to look away.

Normally Grazham would have scolded himself for such a slip. In battle such distraction could leave one cold on the ground. This one time though, it turned out to be a blessing as, if it weren’t for his foolish staring, he might not have noticed the lone spider skittering down the wall at Robert’s back.

There was no time to think. Too late to call out and to risky to cast a spell Grazham only had one option left.

With a force that surprised even himself, Grazham launched himself at the spider, swinging his stave with all his might. The barbed edge of his staff connected with its rounded abdomen with a wet thump that Grazham could feel all the way up his arms.

He’d made it. He’d made it in time.

A wave of relief washed over him. That relief was sadly short lived though as a sharp crack reverberated throughout the room

Immediately, almost unconsciously his eyes sought out Robert’s. He was far enough away that no matter what happened he’d at least be safe. At least there was that to be thankful for.

That was all Grazham had time for as the world was devoured by darkness.

Grazham felt like he was swimming.

Or at least what he imagined swimming would feel like. Weightless and warm, he drifted through the comfortable darkness

It was familiar, this feeling of nothingness. A single moment where the darkness closed in, gentle and comforting. A moment where there were no responsibilities. No demands. Only peace.

Still, perhaps it was not truly nothing.

In the back of his mind Grazham could feel the slightest of twinges. A pinprick of something he was supposed to remember. Something he was supposed to do. A place he was supposed to be.

It was little; barely even a whisper at first, but the feeling grew. Like grasping hands it dragged him from the darkness and the world seemed to explode with light.

The first thing Grazham became aware of as he was dragged back to the world of the living was starbursts of pain radiating from…well from everywhere actually. It felt like he’d been kicked by a halla. Repeatedly.

The second thing he became aware of though was the panicked muttering of a familiar voice.

“I thought,” Grazham managed to push past numb lips, “that you didn’t curse.”

Hands scrambled to move him upright. Though careful of his injuries the movement was far from pleasant. It was only when Robert had settled him back against one of the larger stones that he found he could breathe normally again.

“You must have misheard,” replied Robert, though there was far more relief than teasing. “We should have the other healers take a look at your ears when we get back to Skyhold.”

Grazham couldn’t hold back a chuckle even though it rattled his lungs and made his bones ache. Mentally he began to take stock of his injuries.

His ribs felt bruised, making every breath a trial and his head felt strange. Any movement too sharp sent the room spinning. Worst of all was his ankle which ached fiercely. Probably sprained in the fall but there was still a chance something had broken. All in all not he’d been spared the worst of it but the news still wasn’t good.

Grimacing Grazham reached for his staff. His other wounds hurt but his ankle was definitely the most pressing if they wanted to move any time soon. As he reached though, he found his hand grasping empty air.

Glancing around a cold wave of apprehension dawned.

“Have you seen my staff,” he asked, hoping that perhaps Robert had moved it somewhere for safety.

It was the sort of thing he’d do.

There was an unnaturally long pause and immediately Grazham knew the answer wouldn’t be good. If that hadn’t been such a giveaway the look on Roberts face said more than enough.

Slowly Robert reached behind, pulling forth familiar wood and metal. Well, familiar except for the fact that it was in far more pieces than the last time Grazham had seem it.

With a groan Grazham took the splintered staff from Robert, looking over the damage. It was in four pieces, one large and three small. Far too many to be of any use.

“And it was my favourite too,” he sighed, running his finger over the scarred wood.

“I’m so sorry.”

Grazham shook his head.

“It is no huge loss. Better my staff than my neck after all,” the jest was weak but it was enough to make Robert smile if only a little. “But it does mean that I am going to be stuck here for quite a while.”

“What?” Robert’s expression seemed to waver between surprise and concern. “Can’t you heal yourself? You’ve done it before.”

“Not like this,” glancing down at his staff Grazham bit back a shout of frustration. With their luck it would bring the whole thaig down on their heads. “I don’t know how damaged the bone is. If it’s broken I don’t want to risk healing it without setting it first and without my staff to work as a focus…”

Grazham trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought. Without a focus and with his head feeling like it were about to pop off and float away he knew he was in no condition to even light a candle using his magic, never mind perform a complex healing spell.

“Oh, well I guess we’ll have to make do then.” With what Grazham could only assume was meant to be a reassuring grin, Robert reached into his pack pulling out a small handful of handkerchiefs. “I always carry some just in case. They’re not ideal but they’ll serve.”

Knotting the pile of linens end to end, Robert set about wrapping Grazham’s foot as best he could.

It was a painful process and Grazham tried his best not to cry out, but each tug of cloth sent a bolt of pain shooting up his leg.

Gritting his teeth, Grazham began to search for a distraction. Something, anything to keep his mind off the pain. After all it would be unseemly for the great Inquisitor to swoon like an Orlesian noble just because of such a small wound.

There was precious little in the thaig worthy of any interest, so Grazham let his gaze fall on Robert.  

It was a nice view to be sure.

His sweat soaked hair curled wildly about his face, even more so than usual. Even filthy and covered in spider blood Robert was lovely. The look of concentration on his face, so at odds with the gentle ministrations of his hands.

Had he the ability Grazham would have loved to paint it. To preserve the way Robert looked in this moment.

Biting his lip, Grazham felt his heart lurch unpleasantly.

It was unfortunate that Robert seemed so oblivious to Grazham’s yearning. As though every flirtation and innuendo missed him entirely.

Unless he did know, but simply abhorred the thought of being with Grazham. Disgusted by his advances but too polite to say.

Suddenly Grazham’s heart hurt far more than his ankle.

Desperately he tried to cut off the unwelcome line of thought before it went too far. Choosing to focus on a stray curl that curved along the shell of Robert’s ear, as opposed to the way his heart seemed to be making a concerted effort to tear its self from his chest.

It wasn’t like Robert only behaved that way with Grazham in particular. In fact, he seemed generally perplexed by the art of romance altogether. Though warm and kind to all, Grazham had never seen him pursue anyone. Choosing instead to focus on what he considered more important things.

That thought was far more comforting indeed. Though Grazham couldn’t help but wish that perhaps he weren’t so disinterested in matters of the heart. It was a far better alternative to Robert despising him in secret.

“There,” Robert said suddenly, breaking Grazham from his musings. “It’s not perfect but it should hold.”

Gently Robert patted the now bandaged ankle. Grazham was relieved to find it no longer ached so sharply, instead diminishing to a low pulse.

Still, movement was difficult and Grazham could tell that the moment he put any weight on it the pain would return.

There was only one solution left and Robert was definitely not going to like it.

“You should go back by yourself,” Grazham blurted out. Hoping that if he said the words quickly enough that Robert might not have enough presence of mind to argue.

Unfortunately, the tactic was less than effective.

“What?”

It was not a question despite its phrasing.

Suddenly every other object in the room seemed more pressing than Robert’s eyes. At least the spider corpses didn’t stare at him with a painful mixture of hurt and sadness.

“I can’t walk like this,” Grazham soldiered on, though still unable to meet Robert’s eyes. “The castle isn’t that far. You could ride for help and be back far more quickly without me.”

“Surely you don’t expect me to leave you here?” Robert’s voice sounded pained, as though he were the one who was hurt by the mere suggestion.

Gathering his courage Grazham turned to stare directly into Robert’s eyes. He was prepared for the agitation and hidden stubbornness he knew he would find in them.

The only way that Robert would ever agree was if Grazham used logic to persuade him. Otherwise they’d be left arguing until the death of the world.

“It’s more efficient this way,” Grazham insisted, holding Robert’s gaze. “You know as well as I that it will take an eternity if you are forced to match my pace and with so much debris blocking the passage who knows where we will be forced to stop.”

Despite the mutinous look on his face Robert appeared to be listening at the very least. It was certainly a blessing for Grazham because he wasn’t sure what he would have done in the face of any more arguments.

“If it’s you alone,” Grazham continued, “you know where the exit is and you’re faster than I am anyway.”

The small joke seemed to fall flat in the heavy air between them, but Grazham held firm. This was for the best. Robert had to see that.

Finally Robert broke first, looking away with a sigh of resignation.

“I don’t want to go.” He said finally.

Thankfully it seemed to be more of a statement than an argument because he began to pack up none the less. There was a set to his shoulders though, a stiffness to his movements that said that he wanted to be doing anything but.

It made Grazham feel for the man. Were their positions reversed it would have taken the business end of a sword to make him leave but there was no other choice.

“I know.” Said Grazham as comfortingly as he could. It might not have been the most eloquent of responses but it was all he had. “Just bring Bull back with you alright? I’d hate for him to miss this.”

That was enough to force a small smile from Robert. Bull would likely laugh himself silly at the Inquisitor being taken out by a pile of rocks but he was one of the few people Grazham trusted to carry his sorry arse out of this forsaken hole in the ground.

With nothing left to pack and no more procrastination he could manage, Robert cast one last long look at Grazham.

“I’ll be back,” Robert promised solemnly, as though Grazham had any doubts.

And with those last parting words, he disappeared around a corner, taking the last of the light with him.

As the darkness closed in, Grazham leaned back and closed his eyes. There was very little point in keeping them open when he couldn’t see anything anyways. Not that there was much to look at even with the light.

Even without the pain from his leg to distract him Grazham was not confident that he could summon even the smallest ball of light without something going horribly awry. With no present danger and nowhere to go it was simply not worth the risk.

So, with little else to do, Grazham settled in for a long wait.

After a while, when he’d finally exhausted every tavern song and ballad he could recall off the top of his head, Grazham found his mind beginning to wander.

The darkness of the thaig was so different from the darkness he had awoken from. There was no feeling of warmth or comfort. No, this darkness felt colder, almost lonely.

It pressed in on all sides until Grazham felt like he was buried beneath it. Like the thaig had become a tomb, which it likely would be if Robert didn’t return with help.

The thought, surprisingly, was not as troubling as it should have been.

Maybe I deserve this, Grazham thought to himself and somehow it didn’t feel wrong in the slightest.

He had hurt so many people. Done things that could not be forgiven. Perhaps this was his penance. To remain here in the darkness. Alone and forgotten. It was nothing less than he deserved.

Here he was no longer a danger to the world. Locked away safely from all those who wished to hurt him and those whom he would hurt in return. In a way it was freeing. No responsibilities. No voices clambering at him to make their decisions for them. Decisions that could mean life or death. Not only for himself but for so many innocent souls as well.

It felt almost as though, in place of darkness surrounding him, those souls he held in his hands were pressing in on him instead. Chaining him to the stone at his back like a criminal and Grazham, for his part, was content to let them.

Grazham wasn’t sure what he became aware of first. The red behind his eyelids or the hand clenched almost painfully around his wrist.

When he opened his eyes though, the first thing that filled his vision was Robert’s worried face. A part of Grazham wanted to reach up and smooth the creases from his brow. But his could not find the strength to move even a single finger

“Thank the Spirits you’re alright,” Robert said, his panic slowly diminishing though his grip on Grazham’s wrist did not. “When I saw you lying there I thought you’d…I thought were hurt.”

“I’m fine. I was just…” Grazham trailed off, realizing that Robert had barely been gone long at all. Certainly not long enough for him to get to Skyhold and back. “I thought you were getting help?”

For a moment Robert’s expression changed. He could not meet Grazham’s eyes and if Grazham hadn’t know better he’d have almost called it bashful. Then his face smoothed to something more familiar.

“I did not go for help.”

Mystified Graham couldn’t help but stare.

“Didn’t go for help but why…?”

Grazham’s question was cut off as Robert stood. Using the wrist he still had in his grip he pulled hard on Grazham’s arm.

“Apologies,” Robert muttered as he tucked himself under Grazham’s arm, stabilizing his bad leg. “This will likely hurt but please endure it.”

Grazham knew his expression probably looked like that of a beached fish but he could do little to push past the confusion of Robert’s sudden return.

They were already at the entrance to the thaig before he could form a cogent response.

“Wait a moment,” Grazham protested, though he still allowed Robert to pull him along. “I’m far too heavy for you to carry like this. It will take twice as long if we do it this way and that’s assuming we make it at all.”

Robert said nothing, instead choosing to help the both of them past the thaig entrance and out into the tunnel.

“You don’t have to force yourself like this.” Grazham continued, desperate for Robert to see reason. He had to see how mad this was. “I was just fine on my own.”

“I know.”

The words, so even and matter-of-fact, stilled Grazham’s tongue though his jaw dropped open slightly in surprise.

“I would not have left you there had I not thought you’d be safe,” said Robert calmly, as though Grazham was a fool for thinking otherwise.

It was infuriating. Grazham simply could not understand. They had a plan. A good one. Why would Robert take such a risk, seemingly for no reason at all?

“Then why?” he snapped, only partially regretting his harsh tone.

Thankfully Robert did not mind in the slightest.

“Did I not tell you,” said Robert, his smile gone soft as he glanced helplessly up at Grazham with a shrug, “that I would never leave you alone in a place like this?”

Whatever Grazham had been thinking, whatever he might have said next vanished in a puff of smoke as a rush of warmth permeated his being. The chill that resided in his bone, always present though usually hidden, seemed to evaporate in the face of Robert’s shy smile.

It was so much like looking at the sun that Grazham was forced to look away. Left scrambling for words that did not make him sound like a lovesick fool.

“Next time Solas can go find his own damned artifacts.” He managed to grumble out, still unable to look at Robert though his grip may have tightened ever so slightly.

Robert let out a sharp laugh that Grazham could feel in his core. A reminder of how close they were pressed.

“Agreed.”

All in all it had been quite a day, Grazham mused. A journey down a hole, attacked by spiders, crushed by rock, and finally dragged back out of said hole by a handsome lunatic. His ankle ached fiercely and he wasn’t sure he would ever be clean no matter how long he soaked.