#she is so overwhelmed...

The night before First Day. Despite the havoc the Blight and the Evanuris had wreaked on the city, the atmosphere in Minrathous is festive. Hopeful, almost, like the sight of a first snowdrop stretching its little face into the sun after a harsh winter that seemed endless.

Qatesh spends it at another reception, her smile not quite reaching her eyes, shaking way too many hands of way too many Alti mages. Dorian and Maevaris insisted, so she complies, despite the exhaustion and bone-deep weariness that keeps lingering no matter how much she sleeps. Despite the darkness that made its home deep inside her chest. She is Rook, the steadfast saviour of Thedas. She will not waver; She cannot crumble.

It's shortly before midnight that Neve and Emmrich come to lead her away. Qatesh does not resist, does not question her friends as she's tugged along one of the mansion's side wings into a small room, towards the warm light of a fireplace.

"Sit, please," Emmrich says, his grip soft yet assertive on her shoulders, pushing her down into a plush wing-backed chair.

Her head foggy, Qatesh observes her team, all standing in a half circle in front of her. She knows these faces well. Six people she spent most of last year with, who followed her no matter what, who helped her in this impossible task of stopping the Evanuris. There should be seven, smiling at her. Not having Davrin here stings, and Qatesh closes her eyes while the guilt spreads along her ribs, rippling down her spine. The dark hole in her chest churns. If only she could have—

Her eyes snap open when a soft bundle is set into her hands.

"Happy Birthday."

That's Taash, kneeling at her side. Qatesh gazes first at them, then at the wrapped parcel in her lap.

"Birthday..?" she echoes, dumbfounded.

Bellara nods. "Well, you said you don't know your exact birthday, so we thought…" she trails off, unsure on how to continue.

"You said you must have been born in winter, so we decided on today," Neve finishes the sentence. A smile is playing around her lips. "We thought the day before First Day could be a good one for you. It symbolises a new start and new hope. And you gave us all hope."

"I—" Qatesh starts. She's way too exhausted to understand exactly what she's being told. She's never had a birthday, but obediently, she tugs on the fabric wrapping, revealing a pair of woven leather sandals and a tunic made of patterned, indigo-coloured silk. They look expensive, way more than anything she'd buy for herself.

"For me?" she asks. Of course, Qatesh knows that birthdays are for celebrating one's survival for another year, and that it's customary to be given a present to celebrate. But she doesn't need new shoes, nor a new shirt, hers are worn but still okay, and with some darning would at least hold out for another year or two.

"I'm taking you back to Rivain," Taash says, their voice firm, not allowing any backtalk. "Taarala… you need a break. And deserve good things too." Their hand reaches out, gently stroking Qatesh's cheek. She stares at them with vacant eyes while the explanations go on. "We can stay at tama's place. Maybe tidy it a bit. You'll need something comfortable to wear."

The exhaustion catches up with Qatesh, weighing down on her shoulders. Here it is; her escape route. The way out she so desperately needs. Enough speeches, enough meetings with people who only care about what she represents. She sobs. The sound of the sea and the whispering of wind in the palm trees covers the constant whistling in her ears. Home… Qatesh never really felt at home with the Lords, but Taash offering to take her back to Rivain… more than the clothes, this is what Rook, what Qatesh, needs. A safe space to heal from what ails her, just her and her ataashi, in a small house by the ocean.