Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

To the unaware, the fact he was so close to the explosion that destroyed the Conclave was quite the coincidence.  When he announced his theories as to the nature of the stormy vortex that lingered dangerously in the heavens, he was deemed the “expert” and did not deny it.  Seeker Pentaghast gave him a chance to prove himself by keeping an eye on a new prisoner–an elven woman.  She had come tumbling out of the first rift created by the tear in the sky but was in no state for interrogation.

And he was somewhat skilled at healing.  There was a scar on her palm.  It was clearly caused by magic, glowing an angry green, like the Fade.  And it was spreading.  The Seeker and the Nightingale feared it would kill the woman before they could get their answers. 

So he was tasked with monitoring her.  She was restless.  And at times, would seemingly spring awake to writhe in pain as the mark on her palm spread over her skin.  If she was ever aware of his presence beside her, he would not know.  But it looked as though she were dying.  It may have been a kindness to put her out of her misery, but if he were correct, the mark would be needed to set back the mistakes that had been made of late.  He could set wards on it to slow this, but that would only do so much with the veil still torn in this manner.

His life was in the Seeker’s hands as much as this elven woman’s was within his at this.  He thought it regretful when the Seeker decided to send him ahead with the dwarven Master Tethras as the situation outside worsened.  He wished to observe the unconscious woman further.  But there were more demons appearing and he had been determined the resident expert on these matters.

And so he departed.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Paya Lavellan had little recollection of what happened.  She remembered a feeling of fear and a sense of guilt.  She remembered stepping out to an obliterated field and passing out immediately.  And that was it.

What finally woke her was a sudden pain that engulfed her entire body.  It felt as though a rod of fire had been pushed into her left palm and through her arm as the pain seared through it.  She couldn’t help but vocalize her pain with a groan.  There was a green light emitting out of her palm, audibly crackling like a surge of electricity.  If she hadn’t found her wrists bound in shackles, she’d try to do something.  Her eyes quickly darted through the room.  The four swords aimed at her head were good motivation to keep still.  

Suddenly, the door to the cell was kicked open and a pair of women entered.  One had short dark hair and simple heavy armor.  Her breastplate with the insignia of a sword pierced through an eye on it.  She also had a noticeable scar on the left side of her jaw.  The other woman wore purple-dyed leather and a cowl.  She had the same eye symbol on a small buckle just under her that kept the cowl secure.

The dark-haired woman leaned down toward Paya, glaring at her menacingly.  “Give me one good reason why we shouldn’t kill you now.  The Conclave is destroyed.  Everyone who attended is dead!”  she sounded both heartbroken and exceedingly angry.  “Except for you.”

Paya’s voice was hoarse as she spoke, raw from her cries of pain that woke her, “What… what do you mean everyone’s dead..?”  She scrubbed her brain for memories, only able to recall her brother asking her to bring him along; a tinge of fear struck her chest.  The dark-haired woman pulled her from her mind when she forcefully grabbed Paya’s wrist, pulling it upwards as green light sparked forth from it again, pain firing through her once more.

“Explain this,” she spat before throwing the wrist down again.

Wincing away the pain, Paya watched the women as they paced around her.  “I can’t... I--”

“You’re lying!”  The dark-haired woman lunged and grabbed onto the fabric of Paya’s shirt, but was quickly pulled away by the woman with the cowl.

“We need her, Cassandra!” she said, moving between them and gesturing for her to back off.

Paya slowly brought her head down, her mind going back to her brother, trying to remember her reply to him.  “All of those people...dead..?”

The one in leathers spoke softer to Paya, “Do you remember what happened..?”

“There was running... I think I was being… chased...and there was… a woman?”

“There was a woman..?”

“I tried to reach out to her...but then…”

The dark-haired woman, Cassandra, seemed to have calmed down and gestured for the one in leathers to leave.  “Go to the forward camp, Leliana… I’ll take this one to the rift.”

As the woman in leathers, Leliana, left Cassandra approached and unchained the elf.  She spoke with a more level-headed tone, “It might be easier to explain what is happening if I show you…”

Cassandra guided Paya out of the cell and then outside.  Her wrists were still bound but she was happy to be moving around nonetheless.  They appeared to be in a small, snow-covered village.  The air was cold and thick with what felt like magic.  All capped off with the angry glow of a large opening in the heavens.  It looked like a raging storm, emitting green light and distorting the space around it.  Cassandra began to explain it. 

“We call it ‘The Breach.’ It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour,” she turned toward Paya, continuing, “It’s not the only such rift. Just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.  It is growing and if we don’t stop it, it could swallow the world completely.”  The breach pulsed, a flash of green arcing, and, in sync with the pulse, the pain in Paya’s arm reappeared and knocked her to the ground, where she began to curl into herself. Cassandra came to her side and spoke gently, “Each time the Breach expands, this mark on your hand does too.  It is killing you.  It may be the key to stopping this but there isn’t much time.”

Paya peeked at the woman through painful tears and furrowed her brow, “What do you mean it may be the key…?”

“It may be able to close the Breach,” Cassandra replied, “We will find out if that is true soon.  It is our only chance, however, as well as yours.”

Paya looked toward the Breach for a moment then returned her gaze back to Cassandra’s.  “If I can help, then I will.”

Cassandra’s brows lifted in surprise and then she moved to remove Paya’s bindings.  Once the elf’s hands were free to move again, she pulled her to her feet and began to lead her through the village.  “Then we must be on our way.”

The pair left through the village and Cassandra explained more of the situation as onlookers glared at the elf, Paya.

“The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between mages and templars. She brought their leaders together. Now they are dead.  The people of Haven think you guilty of this.”

She glanced toward Paya as they walked.  “You will have a trial but I can promise nothing else.  Come. “

“Where are we going, exactly?”

“We need to test that mark on a smaller rift.”

The women moved onward.  Cassandra led Paya out of the village and toward a bridge where several corpses were being prayed over by sisters of the Chantry.  They passed through the bridge’s gate, Cassandra briefly giving commands to soldiers they passed.  They moved by hopeless soldiers, civilians running toward Haven, burning corpses.  Then Paya had to stop as her arm flared up in pain again. 

Cassandra paused for her and spoke patiently, “The pulses are coming faster now. The larger the breach grows, the more rifts appear, the more demons we face.”  They didn’t linger, pushing on toward another bridge.  They spoke as they walked. 

Paya, not sure really what to think, asked, “How did I survive this…?”

Cassandra replied, “They said you… stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious. They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was. Everything farther in the valley was laid waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes,” she paused, “...I suppose you’ll see soon enough.”

They made their way to the second gate but were stopped when the sky shot down a green blast of energy at them.  It destroyed the structure underfoot and they fell to the frozen river beneath. 

Dizzied a bit, neither woman could pause to recollect themselves, as with the destruction of the bridge came a few demons in the form of shades--shadowy forms that rose to at least a foot above Cassandra’s head.  Cassandra commanded Paya to stay put as she drew her own sword and ran at the shades to attack them.  Paya watched for a moment before another shade appeared, about to flank Cassandra.  She put her head on a swivel, looking for a way to help when she saw a stray staff that had fallen when the bridge was destroyed.  She swept up the staff and shot out a blast of cold energy at the demon behind Cassandra.

Cassandra dealt with the first few shades and turned to see Paya felling the other one.  Quickly and instinctually she moved over toward Paya.  She held her sword outward in a defensive manner. “Drop your weapon!”

Paya lifted her free hand in surrender, slowly lowering herself to sit the staff down, “Okay… I’m putting it down right here.”

Cassandra visibly relaxed at this response, then stopped her, “No… I cannot protect you at all times.  You should be able to defend yourself...I should remember that you chose to come willingly…” she said gently before sheathing her weapon and beginning toward a path that would gradually lead them back onto the main path.

Paya spoke once again.  “Shouldn’t there be more soldiers around…?”

“They are at the forward camp or fighting.  We are alone for now.”

They continued onward, fighting a few demons--shades and wraiths primarily-- here and there before they neared another bridge.  “I hear fighting…” Paya noted.

“We are getting close to a rift,” Cassandra responded.  They moved forward and found a handful of soldiers fighting shade demons.  A few feet above the ground, above where they were fighting, was a mass of green, pulsating energy.  Amongst them were two figures not dressed like soldiers:  a dwarf wielding a hefty crossbow and a bald elf, waving a staff around, fighting the demons off with magic.

Before she could think, Paya ran to help.  She and the tall elf made brief eye contact before she turned her back toward him to strike a demon with the end of her staff, chilling it as the dwarf shot through it, causing the fiend to vanish.

After the final demon was dealt with, the bald elf reached for Paya, “Quickly!  Before more come through!” He grabbed her marked wrist and aimed it at the rift.  A powerful magic energy shot out of Paya’s palm and toward it.  The glimmering felt as though it were pulling her forward while also pushing her away before it suddenly exploded–or imploded– vanishing from the air.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

He moved without thinking when he grabbed her wrist, pulling her toward himself and then pushing the light of the mark toward the rift.  In just a moment, the rift was closed and the snow started to settle.

He released her wrist and watched her examine it.  The glow had faded, now isolated to a faint scar.  She studied her palm for a moment before looking at him.  “What did you do..?” she asked.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The elf gestured toward her, “I did nothing.  The credit is yours.”  She looked back at her palm, closing it into a fist and then spreading her fingers out flat.  The elf began to explain, “Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake--” he gave her a rather pleased smile, “and it seems I was correct.”

Cassandra stepped forward, having caught up, “Meaning it could close the Breach itself?”

“Possibly,” he replied before turning toward Paya.  “It appears you hold the key to our salvation.”  

She bowed her head, not sure how to respond.

The dwarf put his crossbow away and adjusted his gloves before sauntering toward the pair of elves.  “Good to know! Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever!” he exclaimed with a sarcastic disappointment.  He gave a brief nod to Paya when she made eye contact with him.  “Varric Tethras:,” he introduced, “Rogue, storyteller, and occasionally,” he gave a cheeky grin to Cassandra, “unwelcome tagalong,” he finished with a wink to which she responded with an exasperated groan.

Paya studied the dwarf for a moment.  His clothing was a bit worse for wear but it still seemed higher quality than your typical travelling merchant.  It certainly wasn’t what she had seen dwarves wearing before.  She noted the red of the fabric on his chest, glossing over the fact that half of his chest was on display, and compared it to the chantry robes she had seen.

“You… aren’t part of the Chantry, are you?”

The bald elf chuckled.  “Is that a serious question?”

Varric gave a slight shrug.  “Well, technically I’m a prisoner.  Not unlike you.”

Cassandra gave a brief huff.  “I brought you here to tell your story to the Divine,” she said before her eyes saddened a hint.  “Clearly that is no longer necessary.”

Varric continued to grin at Cassandra, “Yet here I am.  Lucky for you, considering current events.”

Paya gave a brief nod before looking toward Cassandra, “Alright, where are we going now..?” she absentmindedly flexed her marked hand a few times, “The rift here is closed.”

Cassandra responded, “We will be going to the forward camp, to meet with Leliana.”

“Great!  We can all go together!”  Varric cheered, though the tone was still dripping in sarcasm.

Cassandra scowled, shaking her head, “Absolutely not. Your help is appreciated, Varric, but--”

“Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker?” Varric retorted, “Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore. You need me.”

Cassandra scowled further but conceded.  “We should start moving.”  She turned and began walking away.  Varric gave a shrug to the elves and began following, and then they followed behind.

Now trailing in the back, the bald elf spoke to Paya, “My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I’m pleased to see you still live.”

Paya smiled softly before Varric called back, “He means, ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.’”

She then looked back toward Solas. “I didn’t expect to find someone who knew what was going on around here,” she said.

“He is an apostate, like you,” Cassandra replied, keeping her eyes forward.

Solas looked ahead toward her, “Technically, all mages are now apostates, Cassandra,” then he turned his head back toward Paya to explain further, “My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle mage. I came to offer whatever help I can give with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed regardless of origin.”

“And after this is all done, what do you plan to do?” she replied.

Solas turned his gaze ahead again, now watching where he was going properly, “My hope is that those in power will remember those who aided them.”   He lifted his voice once more to speak with Cassandra, “Cassandra, you should know: the magic involved here is unlike any I have ever seen.  This woman might be a mage but I find it difficult to imagine any mage holding this sort of power.”

“I understand,” Cassandra nodded.

Varric chuckled, “Well, Bianca’s excited!”

“You are Dalish, are you not?” Solas asked, moving the conversation along, “Clearly you are not with your clan.  Were you sent here?”

“I believe I was.  What of you?  Are you familiar with the Dalish?”

Solas drew in a hesitant breath, thinking carefully over his words, “I have crossed paths with your people more than once.”

“It doesn’t sound like you had a very pleasant interaction,” she took note.

“There were times I meant to offer knowledge but I was instead attacked due to superstition.”

“I assure that I wouldn’t allow a similar reaction if you were to visit mine,” she replied

He gave a soft chuckle, “I appreciate that.”

“Ah good, you’re getting along,” Varric commented.

As they continued on, the mark sparked again, and Paya hugged it to herself, biting her lip as she gave a painful groan.

“Shit, you okay?” Varric’s voice returned.

“I’ll be fine.  I’m getting… used to it,” she grunted out

Solas observed her carefully, “I suggest we hurry, else that mark consumes you..”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

As they approached the gate of another bridge, they found themselves being attacked by shades when another small rift opened up above their heads.  

The shades were dealt with and Paya threw her hand out forward.  The mark erupted and a beam shot toward the rift, and after a few seconds, the rift was closed.

Cassandra called out to one of the guards that were watching the gate, “The rift is gone!  Open the gate!”

Solas, while out of breath, gave a smile to Paya as he followed Cassandra beyond the gate, “Well done.”

And then Varric commented, following Solas, “Whatever that thing on your hand is, it’s useful.”

Paya trailed after.  They could hear the woman named Leliana bickering with a man.  From what Paya could tell he wore one of the Chantry uniforms.

“You, Cassandra, the Most Holy — haven’t you all done enough already?!” the man barked at her.

Leliana replied angrily, “You’re not in command here!”

He shouted back, "Enough! I will not have it!”  As Paya approached he moved his face to meet hers.  “Ah, here she comes.”

Leliana turned toward them and her expression softened.  “You made it!” she turned back toward the man, “Chancellor Roderick, this is--”

The man, Roderick, interrupted her,  “I know who she is!”  He ignored Paya’s presence and turned toward Cassandra, pointing at her, “As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal,” he gestured with a loose hand toward Paya, “to Val Royeaux to face execution!”

Cassandra glowered at him, “‘Order me?’  You’re nothing more than a glorified clerk!”

“And you are a thug, but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!”

Leliana retorted, “We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor, as you well know.”

Roderick barked again, “Justinia is dead! We must elect a replacement, and obey her orders on the matter!”

Paya chose now to interrupt, “I believe the Breach is a greater concern as of right now.”

He glared at her and replied, “You brought it here in the first place!”  He resumed ignoring her and turned back toward Cassandra, “You must call a retreat, Seeker!”

“No.  We can stop all of this before it’s too late,” Cassandra retorted.

“You won’t survive long enough to reach the temple, even with all of your soldiers!”

“We must get to the temple. This is the quickest route!”

Leliana intervened, “But not the safest. Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains.”

Cassandra shook her head, “No, it’s too risky.  We lost an entire squadron on that path.”

Roderick attempted to crawl back into his conversation, “Listen to me! Abandon this now before more lives are lost!”

As they spoke, the mark on Paya’s palm pulsed once again and she bit her lower lip again.  Cassandra turned toward her in concern, hearing the faint crackling the mark gave out.  “How do you think we should proceed?” she asked.

Paya regained her breath and clutched the marked hand over her chest.  “I think the mountain path will be the best idea.  As… Leliana?  As Leliana said, that will be safer...”

Chapter Text

The first section of the mountain pass consisted of an old, slippery flight of stairs and then a series of ladders and platforms.  Things had been cold thus far but the mountain was even colder as the biting winds had full access to them.  Thankfully, they were able to quickly find refuge when they reached the highest platform.  They now faced a tunnel that had been carved through the mountain some centuries ago.  

They entered the tunnel cautiously.  Trailing toward the back of the party, Solas traced his hand over a geometric spot of architecture.  “What manner of tunnel is this? A mine?” he asked, directing his question mostly toward Cassandra, who replied.

“Part of an old mining complex. These mountains are full of such paths.”

“The missing soldiers in here somewhere?” Varric questioned.

“We shall see soon enough,” Cassandra replied again.

The structures within the tunnel were clearly man-made, perhaps with the aid of a dwarf at some point.  Every so often, there were geometrically shaped pillars keeping the ceiling aloft.  The floor was some sort of stone, the westward wall was exposed for mining purposes, and the eastward walls were plated with sheets of metal.  Old crates and burlap sacks containing various mining equipment were pushed up against a few of the walls.

After walking further into the tunnel, three shades and a rage demon rose from the shadows.  They immediately attacked the group.  Being the only melee combatant in the party, Cassandra took the lead, slashing at the demons and keeping a one-woman wall between herself and the three ranged attackers.  Varric delivered heavy blows with Bianca, his crossbow.  Solas and Paya stood side by side, firing frozen energy at the Rage demon, cooling its blaze.  All of the demons were dealt with in a quick fashion and the party was able to start moving again.

As they neared the exit, they found several human corpses lying on the floor--all bearing the same insignia that Cassandra wore on her chest.  Varric let out a sigh, sounding all too familiar with these sights.

“Looks like we found the soldiers,” he said.

Cassandra scanned their faces, pacing around them and counting them.  “This cannot be all of them,” she said as she began exiting the tunnel.

“So the others could be holed up somewhere ahead?”

Once outside, they could see a rift not much farther ahead.  Solas spoke, “Our priority must be the breach. Unless we seal it soon, no one is safe.”

Varric chuckled and gestured toward Paya, “I’ll be leaving that up to our elven friend here.”

As they approached, they found a small group of soldiers fighting off more shades.  Paya’s mark flared up, almost responding to the rift.  She gave a look toward Cassandra before both women jumped into the fray, fighting alongside the soldiers.  With only a short pause to register the situation, Varric and then Solas joined the battle.  Once the shades were dealt with, Paya glanced toward her crackling palm before pointing its light toward the rift.  The force of the beam that shot out had a decent amount of kick to it, but she remained firm in her stance.  The rift blasted outward, causing Paya to jerk her shoulder back, but its particles dissipated and it was gone.  One of the soldiers turned toward Cassandra, greeting her as “Lady Cassandra.”  Cassandra moved around the soldiers, checking on their well-being and relieved to see them alive.

Solas stood beside Paya, still catching his breath from the combat, “Sealed, as before. You are becoming quite proficient at this.”  He had a soft smile on his face, and they both paused to just look at each other.

Varric interrupted the moment, almost as though it was intentional, “Let’s hope it works on the big one.”

Cassandra helped a soldier to her feet.  She gripped Cassandra’s arms as she spoke, “Thank the Maker you finally arrived, Lady Cassandra,” she paused to look around at her saviors, “I don’t think we could have held out much longer.”

Cassandra gestured toward Paya, “Thank our prisoner, Lieutenant. She insisted we come this way.”

The lieutenant, confused, looked at Cassandra’s face and then Paya’s.  “The prisoner? Then you…?”

Paya smiled, approaching.  “It was worth it to be able to save someone.”

Cassandra gestured toward the way they had come.  “The valley behind us is clear for the moment.  You should go now while you can.”  The Lieutenant thanked the group again and led the rest of the soldiers away.

The group continued onward, moving nearer to the remnants of the Temple of Sacred Ashes.  They had a brief moment of reprieve as the area now seemed void of any obstacles.

“The Temple of Sacred Ashes,” Solas announced.

“What’s left of it, anyway,” Varric retorted.

They walked along the ruin.  Paya moved her head around, trying to see if she could recognize any of the charred corpses.  It seemed nothing remotely recognizable remained on their beings, however.  They looked like the results of failed cremations, frozen in anguish.

The closer to the most central point they got, the more charred the ground appeared.  And soon, they were surrounded by blackened earth and below them stood a large tower.  The tower itself was within a crater, likely caused by the explosion that destroyed the Chantry, and thus was encircled by steep walls.  Part of the crater had caved in and allowed for passage in and out of the crater.  Above the tower was the Breach.  It was much larger and looked even angrier up close and every so often it sparked with lightning.  It was clouding out the light of the sun at this point, though giving off its own eerie, green, glow.  A trail of large chunks of the building and other rubble were suspended in the air, seemingly frozen in motion while they were floating toward or falling from the Breach.  All the sound from outside of the crater seemed muffled the closer they got to the Breach and the air smelled of a thunderstorm and everything dripped with magical energy.

Cassandra gestured toward the tower.  About eighty feet off the ground was a rift that was larger than the rest they had come across. “That is where you walked out of the Fade and our soldiers found you. They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was.”  Paya looked toward her and only nodded in response.

Instead, Varric spoke, stating everyone’s observation “The Breach sure is a long way up.”

Like a shadow, Leliana appeared behind them, a few other soldiers approaching from further behind her.  “You’ve made it.  Thank the Maker.”

“Leliana, have your men take position around the tower,” Cassandra said.  Leliana nodded and gestured for her soldiers to move.  Cassandra then turned toward Paya. “We might be able to end this now.  Are you ready?”

“I am but I’m not quite sure how I’m supposed to reach the Breach.”

Solas came to stand beside her, watching the rift. “No,” he gestured toward the rift, “That was the first rift.  It’s our key.  If we seal it, then perhaps we’ll seal the Breach with it.”

Cassandra nodded toward him.  “Then we should find a way down there,” she began walking, “Be careful.”

The quartet plus Leliana traveled down the sides of the crater, finding a sort of natural path that they were able to walk down more easily.  Every so often there were splashes of color against the black soot of the walls in the form of red, glowing, pieces of rock jutting out from the sides of the crater.  Upon this observation, Varric spoke, “This stuff is red lyrium…” His tone was solemn if not concerned.

“Red lyrium..?” Paya asked softly.

Solas suggested, “Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the temple, corrupted it…”

Varric shook his head, “However it got here, it’s bad news.  Whatever you do, don’t touch it.”  He kept a wide berth from the red stone and moved a bit further ahead of the other three.

As they continued, they could hear the booming, male-sounding voice coming from the rift, “Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice.”

Paya’s eyes darted toward the rift, startled by this.  “What is that?”

Solas rested a hand upon her shoulder in a steadying manner.  “At a guess: the person who created the Breach.”

The booming voice continued, “Keep the sacrifice still!”

And then, as if responding, another voice came from the rift, this one sounding like an older woman, “Someone, help me!”

Cassandra started to pick up her pace, “That is Divine Justinia’s voice!”

They approached a bit of a ledge that dropped down into the base of the crater.  Cassandra jumped down first, craning her neck to look up at the rift.  The rest jumped down as an image started to appear from the rift.

“What’s going on here?”  A third voice, whose owner ran into the scene on the rift

“Run while you can! Warn them!”  The Divine, who appeared to be restrained by some sort of magical means, responded to Paya’s

The first booming voice spoke angrily, his image still unseen, “We have an intruder. Kill her. Now!“

The vision faded and Cassandra turned toward Paya.  She began spouting off questions at a rapid rate, “So you were there! Who attacked? And the Divine is she…? Was this vision true? What are we seeing?”

“I have no idea, I still don’t remember anything…” Paya replied.

Solas jumped into the conversation, “Echoes of what happened here. The fade bleeds into this place.”

Paya turned toward him, “That isn’t good news.”

He watched the rift for a moment longer.  “This rift is not sealed, but it is closed… albeit temporarily,” he stopped and looked toward Paya, and then at her marked hand,  “I believe that with the mark, the rift can be opened, and then sealed properly and safely. However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side.”

Cassandra gripped her sword and started to gesture to the soldiers nearby to approach.  “That means demons.  Stand ready!”

Paya stood beside Solas and glanced toward her hand for a moment before turning it toward the rift.  Similar to how it behaved when she had closed the other rifts, a beam shot out toward the rift before it expanded outward.  All stood with bated breath as they waited for the demons to emerge.  And so they did.

There were a handful of Shades that spilled out but they were quickly joined by the towering form of a Pride demon--a large, horned being that wielded electricity and had a naturally strong defense.

Cassandra took the front, attacking the Pride demon first.  Swift but heavy swings were made at its legs but it didn't create much of a dent.  The demon lifted its hand toward her, getting its own sort of personal storm as electricity struck the ground around it.

Solas stepped closer to Paya before turning toward a Shade and encasing it with ice.  "I believe that if you disrupt that rift, it will lower their defenses." He spoke quickly,  spinning around her to jab the edge of his staff into another shade that approached from behind her. 

A bolt from Varric's crossbow shot through the shade, causing it to deteriorate into a material that looked like old rags. 

Paya looked between Solas, her hand, and the rift, before lifting the palm toward the rift like she'd done so many other times already. 

A shockwave burst from the rift that seemed to ignore the mortal individuals yet knocked the demons back. The lightning around the Pride demon ceased and Cassandra gave the call to go all out.  The Shades fell but not before another small wave of them emerged from the rift.   

Combat went on for several minutes.  The demons' defenses would gradually return and Paya found herself needing to disrupt the rift twice more. 

When the pride demon was finally felled, Cassandra called out to Paya, "Now!  Seal the rift!"

Paya turned her palm to the rift and, like with all others,  energy shot from her hand for a moment before the rift seemingly burst, tossing Paya's arm back.   She stumbled backward before falling against Solas's chest.

Her vision blurred as adrenaline left her body.  Solas felt her begin to go limp so he acted quickly to lift her off her feet.  His timing was impeccable, as she was out as soon as he wrapped his arm around her back. 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

She seemed so fragile now.  He suspected as much, however.  The removal of this rift was an abrupt closing of a wound and would've caused some shock to her system without having to fight demons. 

The Seeker was surprisingly concerned over the Dalish elf's well-being.   She immediately moved to escort him back to Haven so that the one he held could be cared for.  She was no longer a villain, but instead a hero. 

Word spread quickly as she slept.  The people began calling her a Herald for the Maker's prophetess, Andraste.  That would certainly be interesting news to wake up to. 

Chapter Text

Haven’s apothecary, Adan, saw to Paya’s health as soon as the soldiers returned from the Breach.  There was an open one-room house that was arranged for her to recover in and those who had returned from the Breach with her were sent away to make their own housing arrangements and to give Adan space while he examined her.  

If it weren't for the steady movement of her chest, one could easily confuse her for a corpse for the majority of the first day.  When the apothecary wasn’t treating her, Solas had stepped in to examine the mark and ensure that it was no longer growing.  Adan had changed her out of the Dalish-styled wardrobe she had been wearing at the Conclave and into a simple green turtleneck and cloth pants.  The turtleneck had buckles on the sleeves that could be pulled open up to her elbows and Solas used this to observe.  

The mark of the Breach was centered in the palm of her hand.  It stretched across the surface of her arm, following along her veins and stopping halfway to her elbow.  While some of the green veins twisted around her fingers, the mark didn’t reach the other side of her hand.  

Soon, Adan returned to the room and kicked Solas out so he could continue his own work.  As he stepped out of the house, his ears tuned into the murmurs of “Heralds” and “Andraste.”

The second day, she seemed much more like your typical sleeping damsel.  Adan’s treatments and Solas’s examinations still did not wake her.  Solas could confirm that the Breach’s mark had not spread any further and concluded that she was safe from its harm.

By the third day, Leliana had somehow figured out which clan Paya belonged to--Clan Lavellan--and sent word to them to ensure that she had survived.  The name “Herald of Andraste” had officially been prescribed to her by the citizens of Haven.   It spread beyond the village like a blaze.

On the fourth day, Adan met with Solas and sent him to see if he could do something with his magic to speed up her recovery.  Solas planned to stop in to see her later regardless, so he went.

A number of the current residents of Haven were out today.  While the weather was still chilled, it was a clear day.  They held mostly idle conversation, but every so often the whispers of the “Herald” came up.

The house Paya was resting in was nestled against one of the outer walls with two other homes perpendicular to it at either side.  As with all others, this house was a log house made from the pines that were common in the area.  Pushing inside, the warmth of the stove inside welcomed him.

He knelt beside the stove and peered inside to make sure that its blaze remained steady.  As he rose once again, he heard Paya begin to stir behind him. 

“You said your name was Solas, right?” she asked.  Her voice was soft and somewhat hoarse, and still full of sleep.  He turned to her to see her glancing around the room in some confusion.  Her platinum hair rested on her shoulders in waves invaded by bedhead.

“Yes, that’s right,” Solas replied as he made his approach.  “You fell unconscious after sealing the rift.  You’ve been under Master Adan’s care since you arrived.  It seems his efforts were fruitful.”

She absently ran her fingers through her hair, taming it into shape.  “How long was I unconscious?”

“Three days, lethallen.”

A slight smile formed on her face at the familiar language but then her brow furrowed when she processed the words he had said.  “Three days?”  She moved to stand.

Solas held his hands out to steady her, should she stumble.  Her face rose to his chest and he stepped back to avoid unwanted contact. “Yes.  The mark on your hand has stopped growing, however.  Just as the Breach has stopped growing.”

Paya seemed to study the fabric of his shirt for a moment as her brows came together.  “Then...will I be having my trial?”

“I wouldn’t be able to tell you,” he replied.  She lifted his face to look at his own, and he continued, “We would have to speak with Seeker Cassandra to determine what will happen with that.”  Solas moved to peek out the door.  There were people out and about but the space in front of the house was clear.  “I’ll go tell Master Adan that you are awake.  However, I do not mind walking with you until we get near that point.”

Paya gave a short nod and started to follow him out the door, “Thank you, Solas.”

They were able to walk peacefully for a few steps before Haven’s residents began to notice that their Herald was up and about.  

“That’s the Herald of Andraste…”

“...she stopped the Breach’s growth…”

“Why was she in chains…?  She’s saved us…”

Lots of soft, idle chatter about this ‘Herald’ character.

“What are they talking about?”  Paya asked, keeping her voice low so only Solas could hear.

“You,” he responded, “Seeker Cassandra will likely be able to explain more of it to you.”  

Solas picked up the pace, moving Paya beyond the crowds and toward the Chantry building.  He extended his hand ahead of himself to push open the tall wooden doors just enough so that Paya could slip in.  When he didn’t follow, she turned toward him in confusion.

He simply gave a reassuring smile.  “We may speak later,” he said, “They’re in that room at the opposite end of the hall.  I’ll be near the apothecary when you’re released.”  He released the door and it slowly shut.

Paya stood within a long hall with stone floors and walls and wooden beams with red carpet laid out in the center.  The interior of the Chantry was lit primarily by dim candlelight, bathing the entire hall in warmth.  When entering, the few sisters within the Chantry looked toward Paya.  She heard a few murmurings, “Maker be with you”s but as she approached the door at the back of the hall, she could hear the angry voices of a certain Chancellor and Seeker.

In response to some defense Cassandra gave, Chancellor Roderick responded, “That is not for you to decide. Your duty is to serve the Chantry.”

“My duty is to serve the principles on which the Chantry was founded, Chancellor. As is yours,” Cassandra’s voice shot back as Paya pressed her hand against the door.

As she pushed it open, all attention turned toward her once again.  Inside the room, besides the bickering pair, was Leliana and two armored men wearing the templar emblem on their chests.  The room itself appeared to be a sort of small library.  The walls were lined with shelves full of several thick texts and in the center of the room was a wooden table with a few books and a map of the Ferelden-Orlesian regions.

Roderick gestured angrily toward Paya, “Seize her!  She must be taken to the capital to prepare for her trial!”

Cassandra lifted a dismissive hand toward the templars, “Please disregard that and leave us.”

The men saluted and departed.

“You are walking a thin line, Seeker,” Roderick snarled toward Cassandra.

She narrowed her eyes toward him.  “The Breach is stable,” she responded and, as her face relaxed, continued, “but it is still a threat. I will not ignore it.”

Paya furrowed her brow and faced Roderick.  “I did what I could within my own control.  And it seems as though it could have killed me.”

“And yet you still live,” he sneered,  “Quite a convenient result as far as you’re concerned.”

Cassandra let out an annoyed groan.  “Have a care, Chancellor. The Breach is not the only threat we face.”

Leliana stepped toward the Chancellor.  Her eyelids were lowered, brows lifted, and her mouth was formed into a slight scowl.  “Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave,” she said, “Someone Most Holy did not expect.”  Her voice slowed and took on an accusatory tone. “Perhaps they died with the others...or have allies who yet live.”

Roderick leaned back, throwing an incredulous look.  “You mean to say that you suspect me?!”

Leliana folded her hands behind her back. “You, amongst many others.”

“But not this… Prisoner!”

Cassandra firmly placed a palm on the table in the center of the room. “I heard the voices in the temple!”  she said, her voice rose, not with anger, “The Divine called to her for help!” but with passion, perhaps awe.

“So her survival,” he said, reaching out and grabbing Paya’s left wrist, where the mark on her hand shimmered dimly, “This thing on her hand!” he threw her wrist down, “All a coincidence!”  Paya pulled her wrist toward her chest.  She pressed her lips together and turned her head away.

Cassandra leaned off of the table and lifted her chin.  “Providence,” she sounded resolved, “She was sent to us in our darkest hour -- by the Maker.”

Paya lifted her face toward Cassandra’s.  “You mean… you do believe that I’m innocent?”

“I was wrong,” she said.  Her expression softened when she turned her attention away from Roderick, “Perhaps I still am. I will not, however, pretend you were not exactly what we needed when we needed it.”

Leliana stepped forward, completely turned away from Roderick and solely addressing Paya.  “The breach remains, and your mark is still our only hope of closing it.”

Cassandra turned away, moving toward an ornately designed bag and digging through it.  Roderick barked at Leliana, attempting to step into the conversation once more, “This is not for you two to decide!”

Cassandra, having found what she was searching for, returned toward the table and slammed down a thick tome, bearing the emblem of a flaming eye.

“Do you know what this is, Chancellor,” she nearly spat at him in frustration, “A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act,”  She pointed in emphasis to the emblem on the tome. “As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn.” Stepping back from the table, she straightened her back and displayed her authority over Roderick.  Then, she turned toward Paya, “We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order,” and back toward Roderick, “With or without your approval.” 

The Chancellor threw his hands up in defeat and marched out of the room.  Cassandra gave a subtle yet proud grin to both Leliana and Paya and turned her back toward the Chancellor.  Leliana leaned against the center table and watched the door slam behind him.  Giving pause to let him move further from earshot, she sat back up from the table. 

“This is the Divine’s directive:” she started, “Rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos.”  She looked at Cassandra, “We aren’t ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now no Chantry support.”

Cassandra, straightened her back and put on an authoritative tone, “There is no other choice.  There is too much at stake if we don’t act, so we must act now,” and now looking toward Paya, “With you at our side.”

“I will do whatever it takes to help here,” Paya responded.  She looked at her glowing palm.  

Cassandra extended her right hand, “And we gladly accept that.”

After the three women shook on it, Cassandra dismissed the room, saying something about needing to gather a few of their allies that are within Haven’s vicinity.  Leliana informed Paya that she should speak with the local blacksmith to get some sturdy gear that was more suited to the coldness of Haven.  

Preparations were quickly made.  Leliana was somehow capable of getting into contact with Paya’s Dalish clan and sent word of her safety and survival toward them.  Paya was given the small home she had woken up in as her lodging for the time that the Inquisition would reside in Haven.  However, Paya only spent time in the building to sleep.  She immediately got to work helping around the village in any way possible. 

Most citizens would not let her touch physical labor such as repairs, for it was beneath a holy figure which they deemed her as.  So, Paya found herself aiding the Apothecary, who didn’t seem to care about the status Haven’s people had labeled her with.   She spent a good amount of time scouring the region near Haven in a collection of herbs.  Thankfully, Elfroot was abundant.  

She also became acquainted with the Elven mage, Solas, and the Dwarven rogue, Varric Tethras, who had joined her for the battle around the Breach.  Varric was quite the storyteller and spoke casually with most people who would listen.  Paya learned that he was a close friend to the human hero, Marian Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall and the central figure in the famed biographical novel, The Tale of the Champion , which itself was authored by Varric.  Paya did not find it appropriate to start prying into that so early into their friendship.  Solas was himself quite mysterious.  He claimed he was from a village north of Haven.  He was a self-taught hedge mage and lived a nomadic lifestyle, traveling from ruin to ruin to sleep, and Dream--where he’d explore the Fade and take in the knowledge it would offer.  His views on spirits and demons were quite separate from that of the Chantry as he expressed immense sympathy and even friendship with the beings.  

Just outside the village, a camp of soldiers--templars--took root and a training ground was set up.  A tall blonde man wearing heavy armor, with a mane of dark reds draped behind his neck, began instructing these soldiers.  Paya later saw this man nailing some sign to the Chantry building’s door, bearing the emblem of the inquisition--an eye with a sword impaled through the top, with flames surrounding it.

Eventually, an elven servant came to tell Paya that the Seeker Cassandra was summoning her to the War Room -- the title they gave the room that they had previously bickered with Roderick in.  

“Thank you, I’ll head there straight away.”

Paya got herself dressed.  She donned human-style boots and a leather jacket designed by the blacksmith to keep her warm but also be appropriate to do battle in.  Grabbing and putting on a small satchel of herbs, she departed from her lodging, headed for the chantry.

Chapter Text

Cassandra was standing outside of the chantry doors, waiting for Paya.  They both gave each other a silent nod before Cassandra pushed the door open and both began walking toward the War Room.  

The dim lighting of the chantry hall made the faint glow of the mark on Paya’s hand evident to her again.  As such, she couldn’t help but lift the hand to observe it.  Cassandra quickly noticed it.

“Does it bother you?” she asked.

“No.  No pain since I awoke, and it hasn’t spread either.”  Paya pulled her sleeve up slightly to show where the mark had extended just beyond her wrist.

Cassandra gave a gentle, reassuring smile.  “We will take what little victories we can.  The most important thing is that both your mark and the Breach are stable.  You have given us the time that we need and Solas believes that we will succeed in a second attempt to seal the Breach if we are able to get more power.”

Paya gave an amused smile, “I don’t think that much power could lead to any good.”

Cassandra returned the smile, “And they say I’m a pessimist.”  She extended an arm to hold the door into the War Room open and Paya slipped in.  Inside was Leliana toward the left side of the center table, the man Paya had seen instructing the ex-templars standing behind the table, and a woman dressed in golden ruffles, on the right side of the table.  Both the man and the woman in gold held writing boards against their hips with several notes scrawled on them.

Cassandra entered the room behind Paya and gestured toward the man,  “ May I present Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition’s forces.”

“Or what remains of them, at least,” he responded.

And then, Cassandra gestured toward the woman in gold, “This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat.”

Josephine nodded her head toward Paya, “Andaran Atish’an.”

Paya’s brows raised and she responded, “You know Elvish?”

Josephine briefly glanced away, sheepish.  “That’s the extent of it, I’m afraid.”

Cassandra stepped into the conversation again, “And you are already acquainted with Sister Leliana.”

Leliana folded her hands behind her back and tipped her head to the side, “My role here involves a certain degree of--”

“She’s our spymaster,” Cassandra interrupted.

Leliana closed her eyes, straightening her posture and lowering her arms from behind her.  “Yes.  Tactfully put, Cassandra.”

Paya pressed a hand to her chest and bowed her head respectfully.  “I am pleased to meet you.”

“Now we must discuss how we are going to get more power to your mark so that we may close the Breach for good,” Cassandra started.

“And so,” Leliana continued, “We must approach the rebel mages for help.”

Cullen leaned forward, pressing his writing board against his abdomen, “I think the Templars could still serve us.”

Cassandra held her hip, leaning onto that leg, “We need their power, Commander.  Enough to pour into the mark.”

Cullen replied, “And that could very well destroy us.  The Templars could suppress the Breach-- weaken it, so that--”

“That is pure speculation,” Leliana interjected.

“I was a Templar.  I know what they’re capable of.”

Josephine shook her head. “Regardless, neither group will speak to us yet.  The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition,” then she turned, nodding toward Paya, “They have specifically denounced you.”

Paya breathed a sigh.  “Well.  I wasn’t expecting that so soon.”

Cullen’s brow furrowed.  “I think their priority should be arguing about who will be the next Divine.”

“Some have begun calling you -- a Dalish Elf -- ‘The Herald of Andraste,’” Josephine explained,  “That scares the Chantry.”

Paya crossed her arms over her chest, raising her shoulders as she shrank into herself slightly.  “I don’t know if I really like the sound of that.”

“I think the Chantry would agree with you there,” Cullen replied.

Leliana stepped toward Paya, “ People are desperate for a sign of hope. For some, you’re that sign.”

Josephine nodded, but then added to Leliana’s statement with, “And to others, a symbol of everything that’s gone wrong.”

Paya stared directly at Josephine’s face, no longer concerned about the new title the humans had given her, “Are we safe here?  Do you think the chantry will lash out at us…?”

Cullen reassured, “There is no danger to us from them.  They only have their words.”

Josephine countered, “And yet they could still bury us with them.”

“There is still something that can be done about them,” Leliana spoke, stepping toward the table.  A map of both Ferelden and Orlais had been laid out across it.  She took a pyramid-shaped piece of Iron and sat it over a spot on the map in a region labeled ‘The Hinterlands.’ “There is a Chantry Cleric who has asked for you.  Her name is Mother Giselle and she is treating wounded civilians in the Hinterlands near Redcliffe.”

Paya nodded.  “Then I will go find her.”

“Be sure you are looking for other opportunities to expand the Inquisition’s influence as well while you’re there,”  Cullen added.

Josephine nodded in agreement, “We need agents to extend our reach beyond this valley, and you’re better suited than anyone to recruit them.”

“Meanwhile, we will think of our options.  I will not leave this all to you,” Cassandra stated, reassuring Paya that she wouldn’t be doing this alone.  “With that, let us dismiss ourselves.”

Cassandra was the first to leave the room, and one-by-one the rest dispersed.  Paya headed straight for the exit of the chantry.  Cassandra had stopped near it and caught Paya’s attention before her exit.  “Please come find me once you are ready to depart.  I would like to accompany you.”

Paya’s mouth formed into a scowl.  “I thought I had earned your trust, Cassandra?”

“I believe you are not to blame for the disaster that cost us the Divine.  However, the Hinterlands are in chaos right now.  I want to accompany you to protect you.”

Paya’s expression softened and she nodded, the scowl now becoming a small smile.  “Ah.  Then I will come find you.”

Cassandra returned the smile and then exited the chantry.

Following her shortly after, Paya lifted her hand to block the sun that was now high in the sky.  In front of her was a path leading off of the chantry’s terrace and a small set up of tents with a fire out in front of them.  In front of one tent was a woman in Inquisition armor guiding a few volunteers in gathering materials.  Paya had spoken to her earlier.  Her name was Threnn and she was the Inquisition’s Quartermaster.  Leliana had brought her on due to her loyalty to Loghain during the 5th Blight.  Paya commended her for it and agreed to help with requisitions when possible.

Beyond the chantry terrace were the residential homes as well as the Tavern.  Somewhere off to the side was a corner of homes and Adan the Apothecary's makeshift shop.  Around the village were walls constructed from local trees.  

Paya decided that she’d go to Adan to see about having some potions created for the journey. She knew how to craft a simple healing poultice but sometimes you needed something with more kick.  Solas also had been housed in one of the homes near the shop.  When Paya approached, he was standing outside of the house, watching the sky.

“Would you like to come with me to the Hinterlands?”  Paya spoke without thinking.

Solas turned to gaze upon her.  After a moment to register the question and think through his response, “I would.  When are we leaving?”

“Soon.  I am making some preparations.  Have you seen Varric?”

He responded with a nod.  “He is near the entrance to the village.  Answering questions about his works from what I heard last.”

Paya nodded, “I’ll come find you when I’m ready.”  With that, she stepped into Adan’s shop.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The distance between Haven and the Inquisition's base camp in the Hinterlands was just a few days’ time away.  By the time Paya, Solas, Cassandra, and Varric arrived on the scene, the Inquisition had already begun to dig in its roots.  The camp sat upon a plateau with a somewhat distant view of the Crossroads.  

The party was greeted by a dwarven woman with light auburn hair and a warm, freckled face, “Ah, the Herald of Andraste! There are already stories going around about you.  We know what you did at the Breach,” she spoke in a friendly tone.  It took her a moment to scan over Paya’s visage before adding her next comment, “It’s odd for a Dalish elf to care what happens to anyone else, but you’ll get no back talk here. That’s a promise.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Paya responded politely, “And how may we call you.”

The dwarven woman gave a short nod of a bow.  “Scout Harding, at your service.  I’m with the Inquisition.  We’ll do whatever we can to help.”

“Harding?  Ever been to Hightown?” Varric asked, mouth forming into a slight smirk.

Harding tipped her head to the side and attempted to recall, “Can’t say I have.  Why?”

“Because then you’d be Harding in…” he started to reply but then started to trail off, “Nevermind.”

Paya interjected, “What’s the situation here?  What needs our attention most?”

Scout Harding straightened her posture and, while still friendly, her tone became more formal--more business.  “We came to secure horses from Redcliffe’s old horsemaster. I grew up here, and people always said that Dennet’s herd was the strongest and fastest this side of the Frostbacks,” she began to explain, “But with the mage-templar fighting getting worse, we couldn’t get to Dennet. Maker only knows if he’s even still alive. Mother Giselle’s at the crossroads helping refugees and the wounded. Our latest reports say that the war’s spread there too. Corporal Vale and our men are doing what they can to help protect the people, but they won’t be able to hold out very long.”

Paya turned toward her companions.  “We should make our way to Mother Giselle first.  That situation seems the most dire.”  She was replied to with silent nods of agreement.  Then, she turned toward Harding,  “And then, we’ll seek out Master Dennet, while establishing the Inquisition as best we can here.”

Scout Harding nodded, agreeing,  “You best get going. No time to lose.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The Hinterlands were a majority unsettled wilderness populated with mostly farmers.  There was a settlement at a major crossroad in the region, commonly referred to simply as Crossroads.  This was where Harding stated that Mother Giselle was currently residing. The village of Redcliffe in its northern region was famous for its former Arl’s involvement with the Hero of Ferelden and the landsmeet that occurred during the Fifth Blight.  While usually peaceful, the Hinterlands were currently in strife as a central region for the ongoing Mage-Templar conflict. Ferelden’s Queen had invited the mages into the country as a refuge but it appeared to have backfired.  The common folk of the region were at great risk as a result of the conflict.  

On their way toward the crossroad, the inquisition party had to deal with groups of Templars and mages who were--separately--blindly attacking passersby. 

“This was a peaceful region once,” Solas commented absently.

“It has been some time since I was here last,” Paya replied, “But I do recall that.”

“It seems sooner or later it always ends up being templars versus mages,” Varric commented smartly.

There were already inquisition forces at Crossroads and parties of both templars and mages had descended upon the settlement, already attacking them.

“They’re trying to protect the refugees!” Cassandra cried out, running in to aid the Inquisition forces.

“Seems they could use a hand,” Varric added, joining Cassandra in the defense.

The elven mages joined in the battle without further comment.

The defense was successful, though there were a number of injured locals and Inquisition soldiers, and there were a good number of people who were dead even before the party of four arrived.. Those who were still standing made their way around the immediate area of the attack to tend to the wounded, though beyond Solas, Cassandra and Varric couldn’t do much to help.  Paya quickly located mother Giselle, as there were no others in the region wearing the full bright red habit of the Chantry mothers.

She was tending to a wounded soldier alongside a human mage, still wearing his chantry robes.  “Don’t… let them touch me, Mother. Their magic…” the soldier begged, cowering away from the mage.

The Mother held his hand comfortingly, replying to his worries, “Turned to noble purpose, their magic is surely no more evil than your blade.  Allow them to ease your suffering.”

Paya approached with Cassandra close behind her.  “Mother Giselle?” she asked cautiously.

“I am,” the Mother rose to her feet as she replied in a thick Orlesian accent,  “And you must be the one they’re calling the Herald of Andraste.”

Paya’s shoulders lifted apprehensively.  “That seems to be the case.  I’d like to speak with you.”

Mother Giselle nodded.  “Please walk with me.”

Giselle and Paya walked through the crossroads as they spoke.

“I know of the Chantry’s denouncement, and I’m familiar with those behind it,” Mother Giselle said, “I won’t lie to you: some of them are grandstanding, hoping to increase their chances of becoming the new Divine. Some are simply terrified,” her eyes softened as she scanned over the death and destruction that had befallen the settlement. She continued to speak, referencing more than just the current sight, “So many good people, senselessly taken from us…”

Paya nodded.  “It’s tragic what has transpired…”  her mind absently traveled to the mark on her left palm and she couldn’t help but clench her fingers tightly over it.

“They are desperate from fear.  But not beyond reason, hopefully,” Giselle reassured.  “Go to them.  In Val Royeaux.  Convince the remaining Clerics you are no demon to be feared. They have heard only frightening tales of you. Give them something else to believe.  You do not need to be concerned with convincing all of them.  You just need them to doubt what they believe about you.”  She smiled.  “They only have power in their unification.  Simply take that from them and you will have bought your time.”

“Thank you, Mother Giselle…”

“We must hold onto our hope.  Whether or not I believe you have been chosen for this path or simply were in the wrong place at the right time, hope is what we need.  The people will listen to your rallying call, as they will listen to no other. You could build the Inquisition into a force that will deliver us… or destroy us.”  She scanned the party of four that Paya had come with before continuing, “I will go to Haven and provide Sister Leliana the names of those in the Chantry that would be amenable to a gathering. It is not much, but I will do whatever I can.”

 “Thank you.”

As Giselle began to walk away, Cassandra approached with Varric and Solas in tow.  “Are we to seek out the horsemaster Dennet or return to Haven to prepare to go to Val Royeaux?”  Cassandra asked.

“We should ensure that the horsemaster is alive and make sure he is protected,” Paya replied, “But once that is done we should return to Haven.”

Chapter Text

She was surprisingly headstrong.  These people hated her on sight for many of the same reasons they would hate him -- an elf and a mage.  But she wielded a gentle yet firm touch for the innocent.  She was no healer though.  She was honed for defense.  A protector and guide.  The role she would've taken as the Keeper of her clan had she progressed that far.  The path she was on may tear down that plan. However,  she would have the role of guide and protector yet. 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Taking a moment to catch their breaths,  Paya, with Cassandra's aid, wrote a letter informing their spymaster of their next plan of action.   There were instructions to scope out Val Royeaux.  They traded some supplies with the settlers of the crossroads and restocked on potions before they set off again. A resident had pointed them in the direction of the Horsemaster Dennet's home amongst a handful of farms. 

The Hinterlands were large, and dotted with many ruins from the ancient days of Tevinter’s empire.  The sun shone high in the center of the sky and it warmed the four members of the Herald of Andraste's party.  Paya took the lead, Cassandra walked directly behind her, then Solas and Varric in the back. Their heads were kept on a swivel, keeping alert for attacks from mages and templars alike.

They were able to keep to a marked out path for most of their travel.  These farms were important to the nearby Redcliffe Village and were thus connected to the main road.  If there wasn't a war going on, this road would have been relatively safe.  However, there was conflict happening.

First, it was a trio of mages aided by a single sellsword. And then a handful of templars.  Solas tossed his wrist out and brought down barriers around his allies that protected from magic fires and loosed arrows.  Barrages of energy launched from Paya, holding her arms out as she summoned forth icy daggers to pierce through defenses.  The opening distraction gave Varric time to utilize Bianca, her teeth sinking into robed flesh.  Cassandra danced around their ranged attacks,  protecting herself with a shield and dealing killing blows with a heavy mace picked up in the Crossroads.

While they were fearsome, they were not flawless. A templar had come behind Varric and managed to knock the wind from him with his shield.  Solas's barrier fell just in time for him to get singed,  and Cassandra had been knocked around as the only melee fighter amongst them.  Paya,  taking a central position in their formation took less damage than others,  but she wasn't free of scrapes and had felt at least one arrow skip over her shoulder,  tearing the skin beneath and tinting the fabric on her shoulder red. 

Once their foes were felled, they broke away from the main road to regather and lick their wounds.  They located a river,  seemingly only populated by wildlife.  Safe enough. 

Potions and a touch of magic cured their injuries but they decided to take a moment of respite.   

"Seems the agents we sent ahead will make it there before us," Paya commented. 

"That just means they get to blaze the trail of fanatics for us," Varric retorted smartly. 

Solas had taken Varric’s jacket, mending a tear that magic hadn’t touched.  It seemed in his journeys he had picked up a talent for the needle and thread.  "We could perhaps continue our journey from here," he added, "This is the river we were meant to cross, so we are not far."

“I agree,” Paya said, “If all we have to deal with are a few animals, that seems to be the best course of action.”

After many moments of recuperating, the party set off once again.

Solas was correct; they were quite near.  

They reached the head of the river, soon enough, and just beyond they could see the tops of the farmhouses.  Unfortunately, at the head of the river was also a weakened area of the Veil, where a rift hung loosely in the air.  Paya made a move to approach it, but Solas grabbed her wrist to stop her.

He quickly pulled her against his chest and then behind him as a distortion formed on the ground just below where her feet once were.  From it, long, slender fingers covered in a deep green carapace crawled before a towering, stick-shaped demon sprung from it--a Terror demon.  The shockwave its emergence created knocked Solas nearly off his feet.  The party, in turn, sprung back into action.

They fought hard and fast.  In the end, two Terror demons, and a handful pair of wraiths were all they dealt with per the two waves.  As soon as the last of the demons fell, Paya extended her hand toward the Rift; it was an instinctual act.  She focused her energy into the glowing palm and it sparked to life.  She felt as though she was being pulled but kept her ground until it was closed.

She paused to catch her breath.  A quick glance to her companions rewarded her with confident expressions.

“Good work,” Varric nodded.

“Let us continue,” Cassandra said as she sheathed her equipment.  She began walking in the direction of the farmhouses and the rest of the party followed her lead.

Paya was also correct in that the agents had gotten there ahead of them-, and had already set a camp.  

“Your Worship,” an agent greeted Paya.

She gave a small nod.  “Is there any news?”

“These people are having troubles with wolves recently and are low on supplies.”

“We’ll see to it that it’s taken care of,” Paya replied.

The agent bowed their head respectfully and returned to their duty.  

The Redcliffe farms were situated in a valley, surrounded by trees. The stables were on the furthest end of the valley from the Inquisition camp, which was situated near a shallow creek that ran down from one of the cliff faces surrounding the farms.  The surrounding scenery was lush, green, with splashes of yellows and reds from trees that changed into their autumn gowns.  

“Excuse me, madame, but is there a Master Dennet here?”

“That’d be my husband.  He’s inside if you wish to speak with him,” the woman replied.

Taking that as an invitation, Paya pushed into the house. 

Tending to some gear on a table near the entrance, was a warmly dressed man--the Horsemaster.

“So, you’re the Inquisition,” he said without lifting his eyes from the scattered metal implements and horseshoe in front of him.  “One of the Halla riders,” he finished, finally looking up at the elven woman.

“Do you have a problem with me being a ‘halla rider.’?”  Paya asked, cocking a brow.

“Did it sound like I had a problem with that?  No. I’m actually quite impressed with the way your people handle them.”

“Well, then thank you.  I suppose.”

Cassandra interjected, “We need horses for our Inquisition and were directed to seek you out.”

“I’d love to help with the cause but things are too hectic here for a safe journey to be made.”

“How can we help?” Paya asked.

Dennet studied her face for a moment.  “Speak with the people on the farm.  My woman and my head farmhand, Bron.  They have more information than I do.  I can’t spare much but you can have one of my horses for now.  My daughter Seanna can get you saddled up.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Elaina, Dennet’s wife, asked for aid with black wolves attacking the farms and Bron asked that the Inquisition help set up watchtowers, so that the road may return to some amount of safety.  Some agents were dispatched to deal with the watchtowers and the investigation of the wolves led the party to find a demon controlling the beasts and turning them aggressive.  The demon was vanquished and the party was able to report back with the good news.

Paya asked Dennet to join them at Haven, and with some helpful persuasion from Cassandra, he agreed.

And so, they set out to return to the snow-covered village.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Varric and Solas departed from the party upon arrival at Haven.  With Cassandra, Paya approached the Chantry, finding Cullen out front breaking up an argument between the resident ex-templars and mage refugees, who were crowding around him.  The Chancellor Roderick butted in, insulting the Ex-Knight-Commander to his face.  Cullen spotted the pair of women and looked out toward the crowd.  “Back to your duties, all of you.”

Paya approached, and Cassandra entered the Chantry.

“Is everything alright, Commander?” Paya asked.  

“Just the mages and templars blaming each other for the death of the Divine.”

“Which is why we require a proper authority to guide them back to order.”  Roderick interrupted.

Cullen glowered at him, “Who, you? Random clerics who weren’t important enough to be at the Conclave?”

Using a snide tone, with his arms folded behind his back, Roderick replied,
"The rebel Inquisition and its so-called 'Herald of Andraste?' I think not.”

“Fortunately, no one is really asking you,” Paya matched Roderick’s haughty pose with her response, “How are things here, aside from the arguing, Commander?” Paya now ignored the chancellor.

“You seem to have a guest.  Leliana has been...entertaining him.  He’s Dalish, like you.”

“Dalish?”

As if on cue, the doors of the chantry slammed open, behind them a male elf.  His pale blonde hair and smattering of freckles across his pale face mimicked Paya’s.  On his face was also red Vallaslin, symbolizing the Elvhen goddess Andruil.

“Paya!” He called out in utter familiarity.

“Khash, what are you doing here!”  She ran to embrace her brother.

“The uh.. Nightingale sent word to us.  I had to come here.”

“Does Keeper Deshanna know you’re here?”

He pulled away bashfully.  “I told them I was leaving, yes.  I didn’t necessarily ask for permission.”

Paya knitted her brows together, "If I didn't know how well you disappear when you want to, I'd scold you for how dangerous coming here was." 

"I had to see with my own eyes that you were in one piece."

Paya's expression softened.   "I am.  Let's get out of the cold." She gestured for the elf to enter and left Cullen to ward off the Chancellor. 

Leliana greeted them inside.  “Ah, Herald, I see you’ve come to meet with our visitor.” 

Paya had linked her arm with the other elf.  “Yes.  This is my brother, Khash of the Lavellan Clan.  If it wouldn’t be a problem, I would like him to join our Inquisition.”

Khash stammered, “Whu-- What?  We should be going home, Paya.”

Paya took a hold of his hands, squeezing them together as she stared sternly into his face.  “I cannot leave, brother.”  The green glow of the anchor on her left palm peeked out from beneath her hand over his.  He felt its hum.  It was familiar, like her magic, but foreign and frightening.  Hot like a flame but without the comforting warmth that accompanied the blaze of a campfire.  She moved her hand and showed the stain that the Breach had left upon it.  “I am the only one that can close that tear in the sky.  And I do not plan to run away from that duty any time soon.”

He studied his sister’s face.  There, he found her resolve. 

“Very well,” the tall elf said.  “Then... I suppose I’ll help you.  So we can head home.”

Paya’s face softened and she returned his hands to him.  “I have to meet with my advisors now.  Go to the Tavern and I’ll come to retrieve you.”

Khash chewed on his lip for a moment, nodded, and left the Chantry building after giving Paya a brief squeeze.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

He watched a tall elf approach the stairs leading to his abode.  They bore the same violet gaze and speckled face as the Herald.  The same red color of Vallaslin.  Their face was young and foolish.  They left nothing but shallow indentations in the snow.  A rogue.  A Dalish hunter.  Last he’d checked, their Herald was a mage. A Keeper in training.

“Excuse me, I haven’t seen you around here before.”

He didn’t know what brought the words from his chest.  He should’ve kept quiet.  Should have kept watching.

“I haven’t been here long.  And you are?”

“My name is Solas.  Are you a former acquaintance of the Herald?”

“That Nightingale woman called her that too.  What does it mean?”

“That’s what the people have come to call her.  And what shall I call you?”

“Khash.”

“Khash.”

“Yes.  I’m going to continue on.  Uh.” The tall elf played with the name and it sounded unnatural coming from his mouth. “Goodnight, Solas.”   He did not offer Solas the time to respond further and walked the rest of his journey into the tavern.

Not long after, done with her meeting, Paya followed the same path as the tall elf named Khash.  She noticed immediately that Solas was watching and she offered a comfortable smile.  “Care for a drink, Solas?”

“I suppose I’ll accept your offer.”  He came down his stairs and met her beneath them.  Her smile beckoned him to follow and so he did.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Khash fit in with the current Inquisition like a missing puzzle piece.  As the other rogue, Varric took him beneath his wing and he could be found chatting with the dwarf or listening to his wild stories.  Cassandra was indifferent.  Paya enjoyed having him around and he didn’t cause trouble, so he was welcome as far as she was concerned..  The only person Khash took issue with seemed to be Solas.

Immediately after their first introductions to each other, outside of the Tavern, and then later when he watched the bald elf follow his sister inside, he felt something was wrong about him.  

Solas was hiding something.

Khash was certain of this; there was nothing other than a hunch behind it.  Maybe it was Solas’s naked face.  Maybe it was the overly formal posture or that he held his head as if he belonged above those around him.

Khash only had a few days to investigate, however, before the Inquisition’s party would be headed out to Val Royeaux.

Chapter Text

Khash was not originally intended to join them to Val Royeaux. But he insisted.  He had spent too long away from his dear sister and he didn’t want to find that she’d been lost somewhere between Haven’s cold mountains and Val Royeaux’s sparkling towers.

The journey to Val Royeaux was an uneventful week of travel.  The five of them rode upon carefully trained horses with coppery hair.  It didn’t take long for Khash to notice his sister’s horse always drifting to walk beside the estranged elf, Solas’s.  She always spoke kindly to the other companions, but to Solas, her eyes spoke of the familiarity shared only with the Keeper.  They shared stories, spoke idly in elvhen.  They were too friendly.

It was explained to him why exactly Solas was here.  He was an expert on the Fade and was keenly aware of the Veil.  He was their best source of knowledge about what this Breach would bring.  He was likely the only person in all of Thedas that could care for the burning mark on Paya’s hand.  Yet, Khash still did not like that this strange elf was around his sister.

Khash did not like Solas.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Val Royeaux was its own beast.  It was white and pristine and golden and sparkling. The city was itself an offering to His glory.

The inn the Inquisition arranged was uniform and lifeless.  Manufactured to the perfection sought out by the nobles playing the Game.  The boys were designated their own room and the two women another.  Soon after obtaining their lodging and placing their things, however, the women left the inn to go meet with the chantry clergy.

Upon entering the Summer Bazaar, a center of commerce known for its extravagance, they were greeted by one of Leliana’s agents.  The Chantry knew they were coming and were not happy about it.  Additionally, the Templars were there and the people were attempting to cower behind them.  The Herald and Seeker would stay alert.  

They found a crowd amassing themselves at the head of the plaza.  Addressing the crowd was a Chantry Mother flanked by two Sisters.   She singled out Paya as the would-be Herald. 

 “Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me! Together, we mourn our Divine. Her naive and beautiful heart silenced by treachery! You wonder what will become of her murderer. Well, wonder no more! Behold, the so-called Herald of Andraste! Claiming to rise where our beloved fell. We say this is a false prophet!” she pointed accusingly at Paya, “The Maker would send no elf in our hour of need!”  

“I never claimed to be sent by the Maker!”  Paya shouted back, “We are simply trying to close the Breach and have come here seeking aid!”

As Paya attempted to reason with her, a group of Templars appeared, marching directly toward the Mother.  Leading them was a man Cassandra recognized as Lord Seeker Lucius.  Mother Hevara turned toward the Templars.  

“The templars have returned to the Chantry! They will face this ‘Inquisition,’ and the people will be safe once more!”

A templar approached the Mother, separating from the main group.  She turned toward him, hopeful.  With a single armored fist, he struck her in the face. The crowd’s gasps echoed her collapse.

Cassandra was surprised how much effort it took to hold Paya, a short and mostly petite elf, back.

“What is the meaning of this!”  Paya demanded.

“Her claim to ‘authority’ is an insult. Much like your own,” Lord Seeker Lucius replied as he continued walking away, pushing away Cassandra’s attempt to communicate with him.

Paya had forgotten about the Lord Seeker soon enough, quick to go to Hevara’s side.  Cassandra and the Mother bickered lightly before she focused her attention on Paya, “Just tell me one thing: if you do not believe you are the Maker’s chosen, then what are you?”

“I’m just an elf that was in the wrong place at the right time.”

The Mother seemed...comforted by the simple statement.  “I will go.  There are still those who need us.”

Paya let her go, rising to Cassandra.  “How long will we remain in Val Royeaux?”

“A few days.  This meeting may have been a failure but we can still gain allies.”

“Agreed.  Let’s head back to the inn for now.”

Varric was in the entrance of the inn making small talk with a human.  Based on complexion, his attire, and the way he held himself, Paya guessed he was Tevinter.  It seemed they were talking about Varric’s magnum opus, Tale of the Champion.

“Did Hawke really fight the Arishok alone?”

“Why is that the least believable thing she could have done…?” Paya heard Varric say beneath his breath, “Yes she did.  You can thank her significant other for that.”

“Who is this, Varric?”  Cassandra asked.

Varric grinned to Cassandra, “Why Seeker, this here is Alexander.  A fan, I suppose.”

Alexander locked his gaze upon Paya.  In a quick movement, he was approaching her.  Two masculine elves appeared behind him and goosebumps raised themselves down his back.

“You are the Herald of Andraste, yes?”  Alexander asked, not stopping his intended trajectory.

“I am.  Do you need something from me..?”

“I would like to join your Inquisition.”

“My Inquisition?”

“Well…” he turned toward Cassandra, see “I suppose it’s yours.  You’re the Seeker of Truth, Cassandra, yes?”

Cassandra scowled at him.  “Why do you wish to join our Inquisition?” she asked.

“I am an expert in manipulating the Fade.”  Solas cleared his throat behind Alexander.

Right.  He had read about this Apostate Fade Expert that was advising the Inquisition in a local tabloid.  

“I may not have the same expertise as your elf--” Paya watched a vein appear above Solas’s brow.  Khash didn’t seem pleased by the tone either. “--but having more mages who know what they are doing can only be beneficial to your cause.”

Paya looked toward Solas and then Alexander.  “Are you good with healing?  Are you useful in combat?  Or are you more focused on the research?”

“I know some creation magic but I haven't been tested in combat for a while.  I’m decent at deciphering codes and have experience with Elvhen texts.”

There was a long pause before Paya replied.  “You can return with us to Haven.  How we use your skills will be determined then.”

“Maker Bless you,” Alexander replied, giving a low bow.

“For now, we’ve had a busy day and I’d like to relax,” Paya said.  She knocked gently on Khash’s chest as she passed by him toward the corridor leading to their rooms. He, Solas, and Cassandra soon followed her.  Alexander continued to ask Varric about his literature for a few more minutes before they split up once again.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“So, Solas, I’d like to hear about your opinions on Elven culture.”

To say Paya was not drawn to Solas from the very moment she met him would be inaccurate.  Being the First in a Dalish clan was a surprisingly lonely life.  She was lucky to be able to maintain her connection to her sole blood relative that lived within the clan.  

“Odd.  I would expect a Dalish elf would be the one to share their own thoughts on elven culture.”

She had retrieved him from his room to go for a walk.  He was surprised that she’d ask such a thing but he ultimately accepted.

“I want to know you better.”

She did.  He was a fascinating entity.  She had met city elves and she had interacted with apostates previously.  But she sensed a certain wisdom from him that she longed to explore.

“And you wish to get the most uncomfortable topic out of the way first, yes?”  

Solas’s tone had a sharp flavor to it, as though he was biting back some frustration.  He had mentioned previously that he was attacked for wishing to share knowledge with the Dalish.  

“Well, that isn’t entirely inaccurate.”

"What are your questions?"

They discussed the nature of the clans and their vast inconsistencies in beliefs and the validity of the records they had recovered. They discussed the adaptations city elves made to their culture so that they could believe in the Maker alongside the likes of Mythal.  They discussed the injustices and the oppression and the selfishness of the elves.  The Lavellan clan was unique in its concern for humanity’s actions.  If most Dalish clans could shut themselves off from the rest of the world, they likely would -- living their own peaceful lives in their wilds amongst the elves.

“I have felt that I’ve been somewhat sheltered as the First.  I know only what the Keeper and our hahren have taught.  It’s nothing I discovered for myself.”

“So you wish to learn from an outside perspective,” Solas responded to her, speaking his understanding of her feelings on the matter.

“I do.  Keeper Deshanna has been very open to my studies of the outside world.  Though some in my clan would disagree with my doubts.  Outsiders are not welcome even if we are on friendly terms and I fear that now that I have become a part of this Inquisition, I’ll become much like one.” Paya expressed.  

“Tel gela, da’len.  Se tath or El’vhen.”  

Paya’s ever furrowing brows relaxed and she lifted her gaze toward Solas’s.  His face was gentle and guarded.  He had faint freckles and old eyes that knew all.  They felt safe in that moment.

“It’s comforting to hear that.  Thank you.”

“Of course, Herald.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

An invitation to a gathering hosted by an Enchantress.  A strange notice from the Friends of Red Jenny.  A few new faces wanted in on the Inquisition and Paya wasn’t about to reject any help they could get.

Madame de Fer’s gathering was quaint.  Varric and the new recruit Alexander aided Paya in donning appropriate attire for such an affair.  Aside from a guest threatening her life immediately after entering, the occasion was pleasant and Vivienne made her offer to join the Inquisition and give them standing amongst the nobility.

The Red Jenny was more interesting.  Taking Varric, Cassandra, and Solas with her, Paya entered another aristocrat’s estate where he was promptly executed by the breeches-steeling rogue named Sera.  Sera offered her Friends, further extending the Inquisition’s influence toward the common person.

As the Inquisition party prepared to leave Val Royeaux, Paya was stopped by an elven woman dressed in mage robes.

Cassandra recognized her immediately.  “Grand Enchanter Fiona?”

“Leader of the Mage rebellion. Is it not dangerous for you to be here?” Solas asked

“I heard that the Herald of Andraste would be here and I wished to see her with my own eyes,” Fiona replied before directing her attention toward Paya.  “If it’s help with the breach you seek, perhaps you should look among your fellow mages.  We are currently residing in Redcliffe if you would come to meet with us.  An alliance could be beneficial to both of us.”

“We’ll consider it.  Thank you Grand Enchanter,” Paya replied.

“Au revoir, my lady Herald.”  And so, Fiona left them.

Pffbbtt . Sera blew a raspberry with her tongue, “More elfy mage types.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The Inquisition party was once more on the road, this time with three new companions.  

“Do you think we’ll be stopped by Templars?” Alexander asked quite genuinely.

“I think traveling with four mages will be completely safe and we’ll have no trouble with any locals at all,” Varric quipped

“We will not be stopped,” Cassandra assured, “The Templars have more important matters distracting them from us.”

Templars left them alone but that did not stop a small bandit group from attempting to rob their Caravan.  Paya didn’t need to lift a finger before Cassandra dealt with them.  She was on edge since the incident with the Lord Seeker and it seemed she needed to get out some of that aggression.

Alexander kept to himself for most of the journey.  He had brought with him enough reading materials to create his own library.  Much of it was historical documentation.  All of it focused on events between the start of the most recent Blight to the current year.  He denied being some sort of historian.  It was just a special interest of his.

Sera seemed uncomfortable with how many elves were in the group.  And seeing as there were only two non-mages aside from her, she was glued to Cassandra’s tail feathers.  Eventually, she and Khash began chatting amicably, though, and they mutually began picking on their elder:  Solas.

Chapter Text

It was snowing when they arrived in Haven.  Khash and Sera immediately split away to discuss shenanigans in the tavern and Paya brought Vivienne and Alexander to speak with Josephine, who would be arranging a place for them to stay.  Sera was satisfied with the tents Varric had set up adjacent to the entrance of Haven.  Khash would be staying with Paya in the home provided to her already.

Leliana was away, dealing with an emergency, so the advisors and Paya would meet once she returned.  There was time to relax.

She ventured to the tavern. The tavern itself was small.  There was a bar with a single barmaid working it against the far wall.  Beside the bar was an open space where a female bard was strumming a pleasant tune on her lute.  The oakwood walls and furnishings absorbed the warm light of the hearth adjacent to the tavern entrance.  There weren’t many tables--just enough to cater to the remaining Haven citizens and the soldiers with a habit.  Toward the center of the room, Khash and Sera were talking over mugs.

"Paya!" Khash lifted his mug to call her over.  

As Paya walked over, the bard began to sing with her lute. 

Once we were, In our peace, With our lives assured.

Paya pulled up a seat beside Khash, on his right.  “Enjoying your drinks?”

“It ain’t bad but it ain’t great,” Sera replied as she took a swig.  She put the mug down with a thud.  “Your brother here ain’t a bad sneak, yeah?  I watched his feet, he didn’t leave any footsteps.”

“I know how to not get tracked,” he replied, prideful.

Paya smiled.  “Khash is one of our best hunters back home.”

“Aron banal’ras Ar vena.”

“Pheh!  None of that elfy talk, please!” Sera whined.

“Right -- sorry.”

Once we were, Not afraid of the dark.

Khash leaned back in his seat, turning his head toward Paya.  “Did you get those shem--” he cut himself off, glancing at Sera before finishing his sentence, “Er..the mages taken care of?”

“They’re in Josephine’s hands now,” Paya replied, “I never asked how they were treating you before I arrived.”

“Well first, I scared a Sister out of her robes because she didn’t hear me walk up beside her, and then the Lion guy and the Nightingale came upon me,” he began to explain.  “They both accused me of trying to attack people here but then that--Josephine’s her name?--ran to tell them who I was,” he gestured to his face.  “We look related so they backed off.  Nightingale kept me inside the Chantry until you came back.”  

Once we sat in our kingdom, With hope and pride.

Soon, Varric entered the Tavern and the Tevinter Alexander peeked his head in over Varric’s.  Varric first moved toward Flissa, the barmaid, and placed a handful of coins on the bar top. He was rewarded with a couple of glasses of a golden liquid.  He made a beeline toward the table the three elves were sitting at.

“Hello, Ser Tethras,” Paya greeted.

“You’re too formal, Daffodil, just Varric is fine,” he replied, “Have a drink!”  He sat a glass in front of her.  It smelled like whiskey.

“Daffodil?”

Once we ran through, The fields with great strides.

“That’s you.  A nickname.”  She couldn’t help but smile.  “But as I was saying, you could relax a bit while you’re here.  Being too polite is bad for your health.”

She lifted the glass to her lips gingerly while Varric sat across from her, to Sera’s left. Alexander approached as well.  He was rigid and awkward and was wearing garb that looked more like a local civilian’s clothes than the Tevinter wardrobe he was wearing previously.  “Go ahead and sit, Marcellus,” Varric offered.

Alexander sat beside him, hands folded in his lap.

Once we sat In the light of our dreams.

“What are your thoughts on Haven thus far?” Paya asked, attempting to melt away his discomforted posture.

He moved his hands from his lap to be politely resting on top of each other on the table.  “It’s.. charming, I suppose.  It’s much colder here than what I’m used to.  This being a mountain village, I’m not surprised.”

Once we were, In our homeland, With strength and might.

Varric summoned from seemingly nowhere a deck of playing cards.  “Any of you know how to play Wicked Grace?”

Since neither Dalish siblings were familiar, Varric took the liberty of teaching them.  Sera joined in and they played a few rounds while Alexander simply watched.  Sera frequently erupted with cackling laughter.  Varric would weave stories both to distract from their plays and to fill the spaces where conversation was not occurring.  Alexander had gotten his own drink at some point and joined in on the game.  There was no gambling for this night.  Just cards.

Once we were, Not afraid of the night.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Welcome back, Leliana,” Paya greeted.  She, the three advisors, Cassandra, and her brother were in the War Room.  Khash sat in a chair against the wall while the others stood around their table to plan their next course.  “You all have heard what happened in Val Royeaux, yes?”

Cullen spoke next.  “It’s troubling to hear.”

“But now we have an opening to approach both the mages and the Templars,” Paya replied.

“Approaching the Templars may be… difficult,” Leliana said slowly, “Lord Seeker Lucius has taken them somewhere but their purpose is unknown.  My reports back have been odd.”

“Alternatively, the Herald could go meet with the mages in Redcliffe.” Josephine added, “They already wish to work with us.”

“They have much to gain from that alliance,” Cassandra noted.

Cullen argued, “Who’s to say that the mages are any more united?  What if they’re ten times worse?”

“We’ll see that for ourselves, Commander,” Paya crossed her arms as she replied.

Khash chimed in.  “The mages at least want us there.  It’s a better shot, I think.”

“I believe we still need more influence if we are to be successful on either front,“ Cullen replied.

“I agree,” Paya said, “What are our best options?”

“There is still business to deal with in the Hinterlands.  It is near Redcliffe so it may give you a chance to scope out the situation without approaching.”  Leliana offered.

“Right.  We’ll start there.”

“Then I say we can dismiss ourselves,” Cullen said.  He, Josephine, and Cassandra left the room, leaving Leliana behind.

“There is one other matter,” Leliana stopped Paya from leaving the room, “Several months ago, the Grey Wardens of Ferelden vanished. I sent word to those in Orlais, but they have also disappeared. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t even consider the idea they’re involved in all this, but the timing is… curious.”

“That is curious…”

“The others have disregarded my suspicion,” Leliana continued, “but I cannot ignore it. Two days ago, my agents in the Hinterlands heard news of a Grey Warden by the name of Blackwall. If you have the opportunity, please seek him out. Perhaps he can put my mind at ease.”

“Then I will seek him out.”

“Thank you, Herald.”

Leliana left her.  Khash rose from where he was sitting.

“That was rather boring.”

Paya smiled at him.  “You didn’t have to listen in, you know.”

“I want to know what’s happening.”

Paya gave a soft laugh, “That’s assuming I wouldn’t have just told you.”

“Well, I have some plans with Sera.  Will I be going to the Hinterlands with you?”

Paya nodded.  “I’ll bring everyone.  Divide and conquer.”

As they left the chantry, Paya nearly ran into a young man who was standing just outside of it. He was a couple of inches taller than her and had all but the top of his head shaved close.  He was quite handsome.

“Oh, excuse me,” he took a small step back, nodding toward her in apology.

“No, I should’ve been paying more attention,” she waved him off.  She studied the armor he wore.  He wasn’t wearing the armor given out to Inquisition soldiers nor was he dressed like one of Leliana’s agents.

He addressed her formally.  “I have a message for the Inquisition but I’m having a hard time getting anyone to talk to me.”

“I can take the message for you.”

His smile was gentle, but his voice was curt and to the point.  “Thank you,”  he began.  As he spoke he moved his hands idly in sync with his words.  “I am Cremiscius Aclassi with the Bull’s Chargers Mercenary group.  We mostly work out of Orlais and Nevarra.  We have word of some Tevinters Mercenaries gathering out on the Storm Coast.  Our company commander Iron Bull offers this information free of charge.  If you’d like to see what the Chargers can do for the Inquisition, meet us there and watch us work.”

“So you are offering us a mercenary company?”

“Not me, our commander.  He’s one of those Qunari.  Big guys with the horns.  He’s professional. We pick up contracts from whoever makes the first real offer.”

“We haven’t made an offer at all…”

“That’s right.  You’re the first time he’s ever gone out of his way to pick a side.”

“I’ll speak with the Inquisition’s advisors and they’ll determine if we will take up your offer.  Please make yourself comfortable while you’re here,” Paya replied.  Cremiscius nodded in agreement and departed. 

The Lavellan siblings split up after that.  Khash had his business with Sera and Paya wanted to go speak with Adan for potions--or perhaps that was an excuse to talk with Solas.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

It was agreed that Paya would take a group to the Hinterlands while Cassandra took the others to meet with the Iron Bull and his Chargers, Mr. Aclassi in tow.  Paya brought Alexander, Enchanter Vivienne, and Varric with herself and Cassandra took Sera, Solas, and Khash.

In the Hinterlands, Paya and her group sought out the Warden, Blackwall, who readily joined the cause.  He was a tall, burly man with a beard that seemed to be a part of his namesake.  With him in the team, they managed to put a stop to the conflicts between mages and templars in the regions by taking out their main bases of operation.  They also further assisted the citizens of the Crossroads and acquired a few different agents from a cult that saw the Herald as some new profit.

Cassandra, on her end, found the Iron Bull and his Chargers quickly.  They were already in combat with the Venatori on arrival.  Khash would later tell Paya that he had been paying careful attention to the Bull’s movement; he was quite skilled.  When he dissected his knowledge of the Inquisition, his intelligence was clear.  He was tall as the Qunari came with wide-sitting horns.  He was covered in battle scars and wore a metallic eyepatch.  Iron Bull expressed disappointment that the prolific Herald of Andraste hadn’t come to see him herself, but understood that the Inquisition would be spread thin.

The parties reconvened in the Hinterlands.  

“When possible, we should return to the Storm Coast.  Inquisition soldiers have gone missing and it is believed that a group called the Blades of Hessarian are responsible,” Cassandra relayed.

“Sounds good,” Paya replied.

The Iron Bull sauntered up to the two women as they discussed their next strategy.  “So this is the Herald of Andraste?”  

Paya craned her neck to meet his eyes.  Eye.  “You must be the Iron Bull.”

The Iron Bull’s grin confirmed this for her.

And then they made camp.  Solas and Blackwall elected to prepare a meal for the group.  It was simple-- roasted ram with some spices Blackwall had picked up in the Crossroads.  While the meal was cooking, Iron Bull pulled Paya aside to tell her a few truths.  First was that he was a spy for the Qunari Ben-Hassrath.  He would simply be writing letters home and other than those closest to him, the Chargers were unaware.  Second was that he knew a lot more about her than was public knowledge.  She was Dalish, which was obvious as soon as one looked at her facial tattoo, but he also knew she was of the Lavellan clan.  She was the clan’s First and had a close relationship with her younger brother.  He was also familiar with who each of the Inquisition’s advisors were.  He liked redheads.

The entire party sat in a large circle around the campfire as they ate.  Paya was flanked on either side by her brother and by Cassandra.  She ate quietly while the others shared their own stories.  Varric told a grand tale of some time he spent in Val Royeaux.  He had a friend there who was in the business of changing their name often and their face even more so.  Iron Bull had his own stories--mostly interesting or humorous contracts he’d accepted.  

Paya leaned closer to Cassandra so she could speak beneath the volume of the storytellers.  “I believe we can head toward Redcliffe tomorrow.  I’ve made my decision.”

“Very well, Herald,”  Cassandra accepted.

Paya stood, making her way to Solas who sat beside the Enchantress Vivienne quietly listening to Iron Bull describe the gory details of one of his battles.  “Care for a walk?”

Khash, sitting beside Sera, who was cackling at the current tale, immediately took notice of their departure.

“She always wants to be around him…” he grumbled.

Sera bumped him with her elbow.  “‘Cos he’s elfy like she is.  More elfy.  Elfy types like other elfy types.  Not that you aren't. You're plenty elfy.  But he’s new elfy,” she paused to gnaw on a tougher piece of meat, “She simply fancies him.  Wants his breeches.”

“Gross!”  he chuckled, amused for a moment, but his face quickly fell back into frustration.  “I just don’t want him to hurt her...  He doesn’t seem like the type to form those kinds of relationships.”

“Then what do you have to worry about?”

“I don’t want her to get hurt.”

There was a pause.

“Let’s go catch some wriggly things to put in his sleeping pack.”

Khash smiled at her.  “Sure.”

Chapter Text

To appear the most amicable, Paya decided she’d bring each of her mages -- Vivienne, Solas, and Alexander -- and some muscle -- the Iron Bull -- as well as her brother to meet with the mages in Redcliffe.  The rest of the party was on their way back to Haven. 

As they reached the entrance to the town, a rift appeared, throwing out a handful of wraiths with a couple of Terror demons.  This would have been simple in most situations.  The Rift itself seemed more… alive than the others they dealt with.  It pulsated with sparks that reached out and touched the ground.  Where it touched, the grass would seem to age rapidly or die or regress in its growth.

“Keep an eye out for those distortions!” Alexander called, immediately recognizing what was occurring.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Time magic.

Time magic!

Marcellus knew he’d eventually have to deal with it again but he didn’t suspect it so soon -- and in this small Ferelden village, no less.  He immediately knew what he’d be expecting in this village.  There were most definitely Tevinters there.

It couldn’t have been Gereon.  No.  After watching Marcellus disappear into his own self-made time rift Gereon would have shut down the research altogether.  He knew the man like an old friend.  Maybe he sold the research.  Perhaps this alliance with the mages would be his ticket home.

However, the study of time magic was very uncommon.  There were only a handful of mages in Tevinter who were researching it and Gereon Alexius was the only one he knew.

The village of Redcliffe was quite crowded and there was much unrest.  Most of these mages had been displaced.  Many were not in approval of the rebellion but they remained amongst those who did because they would not be safe elsewhere.

Agents stopped the party at the entrance.  No one was expecting the Inquisition here--either Fiona had been lost along the way or she hadn’t told anyone they were coming.

They were approached by an elf man in brown, feathery robes. “Agents of the Inquisition, my apologies!” he greeted, “Magister Alexius is in charge now, but hasn’t yet arrived. He’s expected shortly. You can speak with the former grand enchanter in the meantime.”

“Don’t like the sound of this…” Bull commented so that only those beside him could hear.

Marcellus pushed forward to face the elf more directly.  “What do you mean Magister Alexius?  Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m certain.”

Marcellus’s face paled and he looked as though he were about to get sick.

Paya pressed a hand to his back to steady him.  “We should get to the Tavern.  What’s your name, Ser?”

“Lysas.  I can lead you there.”

At the Tavern, the Inquisition party got a room so Marcellus could recuperate outside of prying eyes.  “Solas?”

“Yes, Herald?”

“Please stay with him.  I’m going to speak with the Grand Enchanter.”

With Khash, Vivienne, and the Bull behind her, she left them.

Marcellus sat on the single bed in the room they left him in. “Elf-- er-- Solas…That is your name.”

“Yes, Master Marcellus?”

“You are a Somniari-- a-a Dreamer,” he stammered, “You willfully walk the Fade in your sleep.  You have a deep understanding of the Breach and how it works.  Correct?”  

“Correct.”

“And you are aware that I am a Tevinter…?”

“I am.”

“This Magister that mage -- Lysas -- mentioned was one of my partners that I worked with.  To study magic that bent time.”  Something compelled Solas to pull up a chair.  “The last I had seen him was when one of my own experiments failed.  Disastrously.”

He looked to Solas’s face to read his reaction.  He was relaxed and tuned in.  There was no judgment in the bald elf’s eyes.

“I performed that experiment eleven years ago,” Marcellus explained, ”I was thrown forward in time eleven years.  I’m not from this time… I theorize that it’s linked to the Breach.  I’m not certain, however.”

“I understand.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“You must be mistaken. I haven’t been to Val Royeaux since before the Conclave.”  Paya had found Fiona, who seemed confused that the Herald would address her.  Somewhere between Val Royeaux and now, the mages had become indentured to a Tevinter magister by the name of Gereon Alexius.

“Then who did I meet…?”  

“I… I don’t know. Now that you say it, I feel strange…Regardless, as one indentured to a magister, I no longer have the authority to negotiate with you.”

Speak of the dead and they shall rise, the very magister Fiona was referring to approached them with two bodyguards alongside him.

What followed was an attempt at negotiations before Alexius’s son, Felix, approached, looking quite unwell.  Paya rose to her feet in time to catch him as he collapsed.  While she still held him he pushed a crumpled ball of paper into her palm.  When Alexius ran to his son’s aid and pulled him away to be cared for, no one had noticed the exchange.

Paya unfolded the ball to find a message written on it.

“Come to the Chantry. You are in danger.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

When the Herald came to retrieve him, Alexander took a moment to explain his situation.  She took it in stride and relayed to him the situation that occurred down in the actual tavern.  

“Felix was just a child last I saw him...it’s heartbreaking to hear that he is unwell.  And this business with Gereon is troubling.”

“You will get to see him in the Chantry.  But we should head there before Alexius knows we’ve been warned.”

On the way toward the Chantry, they passed Lysas, who seemed eager to join the Inquisition over servitude to the Magister, and a Chantry Mother who remained in Redcliffe resolved to guide the still faithful.

The Chantry itself was seemingly abandoned.  A few candles were lit inside but it appeared as if a mass exodus occurred from the building.  In the center of the room, a Rift was splitting open and a robed man was approaching it.  He turned toward Paya as they entered and called for her aid in ridding of the damn thing.

Like the one in front of the entrance, this rift created multiple fields that distorted the time within it.  The demons that emerged from the rift used these to their advantage, luring or backing their attackers into the distortions to hamper their movements.

Paya was quick to close the Rift, and the man turned to congratulate the job well done.  “Just how exactly do you do that?”

Paya glanced at the mark as its glow began fading out of her hand.  “I… don’t know.”

The man grinned, “So you just wiggle your fingers, and boom the rift is gone!”  

In the brief moment of clarity following the battle, the man glanced around at the party Paya had brought with her.  He eyed the Iron Bull suspiciously for a moment before he locked in on Alexander.

He looked like he had seen a ghost.

“ Maker,” he said, exasperated, “Marcellus.  I thought you were dead… you haven’t aged a day.”

The pallor from before returned to Alexander’s face.  “It’s a… long story, Dorian.  You’ve… aged quite a few years .”

“A little over a decade, actually.”

“How curious,” Vivienne commented with narrowed eyes.

The robed man, Dorian, returned his attention to Paya. “I am Dorian of house Pavus.  Most recently of Minrathous.  

Iron Bull crossed his large arms and stared down at the Tevinter.  “Watch yourself. The pretty ones are always the worst.”

Dorian smiled at him contemptuously but continued to address Paya.  “Suspicious friends you have here.”  He used his staff as leverage to lean, resting his head against it casually. “Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable — as I’m sure you can imagine.”

“Why help us?  Against your own countrymen?  Against your ‘mentor’?” Khash accused.

“The keyword there is ‘was’.  He hasn’t been my mentor for quite some time.”  He leaned off of his staff, putting it on his back before lifting his hands defensively.  “Look, you must know there’s danger. That should be obvious even without the note,” he continued, “Let’s start with Alexius claiming all the rebel mages out from under you. As if by magic, yes? Which is exactly right. To reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius distorted time itself.”

“Why would he continue researching that after I… vanished?”  Alexander prodded.

Dorian’s casual demeanor solidified for a moment.  The corners of his mouth curved into a slight frown and his forehead creased with regret.  He inhaled to speak but was interrupted by Felix’s entrance.

“He continued because of me.”

Alexander turned toward Felix and his face fell further than it had already.  He looked devastated.

“I shouldn’t have pulled the illness card,” he continued, walking toward Dorian, “I was convinced that he’d be fussing over me for the rest of the night.”  Once at Dorian’s side he turned to address the Herald and her companions.  “Aside from that, he’s joined a cult called the ‘Venatori.’  And I can tell you one thing: whatever he’s done for them, he’s done it to get to you.”

Khash reached for one of his daggers and the Iron Bull grabbed his elbow gently to stop him.

“To get to me?”

“They’re obsessed with you, but I don’t know why. Perhaps because you survived the Temple of Sacred Ashes?”

Dorian chimed in, crossing his arms and putting his weight on one leg as he spoke, “You can close the rifts. Maybe there’s a connection? Or they see you as a threat?”

“If the Venatori are behind those rifts or the Breach in the sky, they’re even worse than I thought.”

“Do you have some sort of plan?” Paya asked.

“Ah... no,” Dorian replied, “Not yet.  But knowing about a trap is the first step into thwarting it.  I can’t stay here for much longer.  I should get going.”

Alexander reached out for him before he could depart.  “Dorian, wait,” the younger mage looked at him, “Come with us.  You should be safe in Haven.”

Paya nodded.  “I agree.  Though you might want to keep your hood up while we exit the village.”

“Well since you’re inviting me, I’ll take you up on your offer.”  He looked toward Felix, “And Felix?  Don’t get yourself killed.”

“There are worse things than dying, Dorian.”

Before they left the chantry, Alexander offered Dorian a hooded cloak so he could conceal himself.   When they stepped out of the Chantry, Paya turned toward the group.  “Khash, Vivienne, I’d like you to take Alexander and Ser Pavus back to Haven.  I want to investigate some things here before I go.”

The departure was made and Paya took the lay of the land.  She spoke to a few of the mages and gathered up a handful of the Tranquil that still remained in the village.  She sent them to an Inquisition camp with instructions that they be taken back to Haven and put into the care of their monster researcher, Minaeve.

The Mages in Redcliffe were a mixture of approving and discouraged of the thought of working for Tevinter.  Those that were in favor could see the potential power the Imperium would grant them.  Those against it had seen the horrors of magic gone wrong or simply wanted to live a simple life with actual freedoms.  Paya had the chance to meet a young man named Connor.  He was the son of the former Arl Eamon Guerrin, and had been possessed during the time of the Blight and blamed himself for many of the tragedies that befell Redcliffe at that time.  He was happy in the Circle.  It kept him and the outside world safe.  Paya reassured him that it wasn’t his fault but it didn’t seem to spark much hope in the young man.

The last remaining Inquisition members finally left Redcliffe.  There would be some deliberation to do at Haven.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Dorian and Marcellus spent hours discussing the past decade with each other.  Alexius did halt his research into time magic when Marcellus had been, as far as they could tell, killed by his own spell.  He was rightfully fearful of its danger.  Not long before the Breach, Felix and his mother had been attacked on the road.  It caused her death and Felix had fallen ill shortly after.  It was some form of the Darkspawn taint.  It took longer to manifest and took longer to wrack through Felix’s body.  He was likely at the end of the road now.

After their long discussion, Marcellus took Dorian to the tavern.  They much needed something to drink after their rather serious conversation.

They were joined soon by Sera, who was intrigued by Dorian and provided the two men much entertainment, and Varric, who was using the Tavern as an excuse to escape the outside cold.

Eventually, the Herald herself, along with her brother, entered the tavern.  Khash also was drawn immediately to Dorian.  The man’s charisma was almost roguish.

Paya and Marcellus made silent, grateful eye contact with one another.  She, Solas, and Dorian were all in agreement to keep his circumstances under wraps.  It would be difficult to 

Things certainly weren't going well, but Marcellus had more hope than previous and that was a good start.

Chapter Text

In the following days, a letter was sent to the Inquisition.  Alexius asked for the Herald of Andraste’s audience at the Redcliffe castle.  As expected, Cullen was dead set against sending the Herald blindly into what was most definitely a trap.  Leliana offered to set her own trap.

Leliana had herself taken secret entrances into Redcliffe Castle and would know how to get her agents in.  While Paya was busy speaking with Alexius, her agents would swoop in and take out the ambush before it was sprung.  The Herald would essentially be bait.

Alexius asked Paya to arrive without escort, but she felt it indicative that she seemed somewhat cautious.  The Iron Bull, Khash, and Sera would be joining.

Dorian was going to leave separately--Alexius did not know he was even in Ferelden and he didn’t believe announcing himself as an ally of the Inquisition would be the best way to convince Alexius not to do something drastic.  

Alexander chose to stay back in Haven, despite Paya and Dorian both offering to bring him along.  He did not wish to see his old friend like this and he didn’t feel he was in the right to critique the man.  He had meddled into time just as far.

Once at the castle, Paya and her team were taken straight to Alexius’s throne room.  Paya led their discussion calmly, to lead Alexius to believe she was actually considering his aid. 

“The Inquisition needs mages to close the Breach, and I have them. So, what shall you offer in exchange?” he asked.

Paya grinned.  Condescendingly.  “I offer nothing, Alexius.  I plan to take the mages and that’s all.”

“And how do you imagine you’ll accomplish such a feat?” Alexius laughed.

Felix approached from Alexius’s side.  “She knows everything, father…”

Alexius’s jovial attitude fell.  “What have you done Felix…?”

When Dorian appeared, the cat was out of the bag.  One by one, Leliana’s agents materialized behind the men guarding the room and took them out.  They had Alexius cornered.  They had won.

Or so they thought.

The spell was quick.  They only had moments to react.  Dorian jumped in front of Paya to shield her from the spell but only managed to get himself caught in it with her.

A dark green rift came at them and they were swallowed in seconds.

Alexius didn’t seem pleased.  Angry, but not relieved that the thorn in his side was gone.  

Sera cried out, sorrow and rage.  She yanked her bow from her back and moved to take aim at Alexius but the doors to the chamber burst open and more of his bodyguards rushed in.  The Iron Bull and Khash were at the ready.  They were suddenly fueled with vengeance.

Alexius threw up a barrier, grabbed onto Felix, and ducked out of the room.

The Iron Bull took a poisoned arrow to the shoulder and was on his knees in minutes.  Khash was grabbed up by a much larger guard and dealt the same poison.  He was out faster than Bull.  Sera used every single arrow fighting off the guards but was quickly overwhelmed.

The Herald of Andraste was gone.  The world would be doomed.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Sleep had been difficult the few days the Herald was gone.  The Fade was bringing no comfort so he was taking to tea.  It was foul and sugar didn’t do much to help it.  But it was the best that could be done.

He was surprised that Varric had invited him out for drinks.

“So, Chuckles.  I’m trying to keep tabs on everyone.  What are your feelings on the Herald?”

“She is a strong and capable woman.  A good leader.  Though she was trained for that.  I believe she holds much wisdom for someone so young.  She is also good for conversation.”  He took a sip.

“You say that as if she’s not just a few years younger than you.”

He smiled at the dwarf.  “Perhaps, I am older than I look?”

“Well, you do act like an old codger at times.”

Both men chuckled.

He brought the mug of ale Varric bought for him to his lips. But something startled him; he lost his grip and the mug dropped onto the floor.

“Woah, there, I was kidding about the old codger thing.”

“Forgive me…” He bent down to pick up the pieces of the shattered mug.   Varric joined him but was shocked at the bald elf’s expression.

He looked conflicted.  Somewhat fearful.

She was gone.  She was not dead.  But she was gone.  And the anchor with her.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

It had been a whole year since his sister vanished right in front of him.  He was shoved into a cell and fed stale food and given a blood-red liquid to drink with it.  There were others in the cells around him.  Given the same diet, too.  Many people did not take well to the drink.  Many became sick and were taken away.  Many died.  

He was also tortured.

They wanted to know how Paya knew of the events at the conclave before they happened.  Some sacrifice was intended to occur.  Khash could offer nothing.  He wasn’t going to rat out his clan for sending her either.  His right hand was permanently damaged due to how many times the mages broke it to get him to talk.  Khash wasn’t necessarily a good liar but he was stubborn as a mule and would continue to tell awful lies to his captors until it killed him.

He was somewhat relieved to see Sister Leliana. The first time.  She was being shoved into the very torture room he was being shoved out of.  She passed a reassuring glance to him and he gave a knowing nod.  They would see each other more than once.  Each time the light of hope in her eyes was dimmer until it was snuffed out completely.  Sometimes their roles were reversed.  He was being taken in while she was dragged out, unconscious from the day’s events.  She aged rapidly.  She didn’t develop the red glow that he was beginning to develop.  He probably should have refused their food but in order to stall the hunt for the Lavellan clan as long as possible, he needed to keep up his strength.

He felt sickly.  Constantly felt as though he was about to expel from himself, though it never came. Six months in, he was rarely conscious when he wasn’t being prodded for information.  Soon all others around his cell were long gone.  

He thought he’d finally died when Paya and the Tevinter named Dorian appeared outside his cell.  He was on the ground, having just recently been returned from a session of information gathering.  His back was to her.  If he weren't dead, he thought, then her voice was a ghost deciding to haunt him after she had been gone for a year.

“Khash…?”

Silence.  He didn’t know what to say.  Or do.  Was this Mythal?  Coming to bring his soul to the rest of the Creators?

“Brother what have they done to you…?”

He lifted his head and turned at least to where the voice came from.  There they were.  Not a day older.

The cell door pleaded with her as Paya opened it.  Soon she was sitting in front of him.  Her hands were on his face.  Her thumbs brushed against scars he didn’t have before she disappeared.  She was beginning to cry.  

“ Ma venem em …” It was all he could muster before his voice broke and he too began to cry.

“Hate to break up the reunion, boss, but we need to get you to Alexius to undo this whole mess.”

That was the Iron Bull.  Paya helped Khash to his feet and helped him step outside of the cell.  Bull and Sera were there.  They looked just as bad as he did.  They had that red glow he did.  He could see it in their eyes.  It was like the flicker of a flame reflecting out of a prey animal’s retinas.  He wondered if his eyes looked like that too.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Leliana was hardened.  She long accepted that salvation would never come.  The Herald’s appearance brought her no joy.  Why celebrate when the world had ended long ago.  This did not mean she would not help the Herald get back to her own time.  This Leliana was doomed the moment Paya and Dorian disappeared.  She was driven by revenge and the desire not to doom these two young people to this fate as well.

She and Khash met eyes for a moment.  He was surprised to hear her biting words when it was explained to her why Dorian and Paya were here.  

“This is why people fear mages”

They were going after Alexius.  He had a talisman that Paya and Dorian needed to get back to their time.  To undo all of this.

Khash saw Leliana’s view. Those of the world where the Elder One reigned would never get that time back.  It didn’t matter that the hero had come.  They were always sentenced to this lifetime.  

Throughout the halls of the castle, they saw the horrors of this reality.  A still faithful mother, murdered for her piety.  The young Conner erupting himself in a blaze so as not to ever experience possession again.  A young mage murdering her friend so that they may be possessed by demons for the Elder One’s benefit.  The sky, overtaken by the Breach.  

Khash expected that the sun would’ve blinded him upon exiting the prison but the sky was only dark and grey.  No adjustment necessary.

Alexius had sealed himself in the throne room.  Dorian noticed that a red shard of lyrium picked up from one of the Venatori mages seemed to resonate with the door.  There were four slots.

One, by one, by one, the other shards were retrieved and the door was thrown open.

“We’ve finally found you…” Paya said.

Alexius wasn’t surprised.  Sorrowful.  Not surprised.  There was a figure in yellow, head shaved, beside him. It was gaunt and pale, crouched on the ground, moving its gaze about the room but not looking at anything.

“It’s over now,” she affirmed.

He accepted this.

“I knew you would appear again. Not that it would be now. But I knew I hadn’t destroyed you. My final failure.”

“Was it worth it? Everything you did to the world? To yourself?” Dorian asked.

“It doesn’t matter now. All we can do is wait for the end.”

The Elder One would be there soon.  For all of them.

Leliana crept up to the figure in yellow before pulling it to its feet and placing her dagger to its throat.

“Felix!”  the father cried out for his son.

“ That’s Felix?” Dorian was horrified.  “Alexius, what have you done?”

Leliana gave Felix a merciful death.  However, this enraged Alexius.

Shades, wraiths, Terror demons.  Time distortions, two rifts.  Alexius threw everything into the fight.  It was less about avenging his son or saving his own life.  He had completely given up.

When he was finally felled, Dorian knelt beside his corpse to say a farewell.  “ He wanted to die, didn’t he? All those lies he told himself, the justifications… He lost Felix long ago and didn’t even notice. Oh, Alexius…”

“There is still hope for him.”  Paya placed a hand upon his shoulder and squeezed it.  He looked to her, accepted her reassurance, and took the talisman they needed off of Alexius.

“This is the same amulet he used before,” Dorian observed, “I think it’s the same one we made in Minrathous. That’s a relief. Give me an hour to work out the spell he used, and I should be able to reopen the rift.

Leliana was incredulous.  “An hour? That’s impossible! You must go now!”

A dragon screeched in the distance.  The Elder One was coming.

Paya’s companions gave each other knowing looks.  Sera and Bull left the room and Khash looked toward his sister one more time before joining them.  He didn’t hear what Leliana said to them as she shut the no longer sealed door behind him.

The horde was quick to appear.  The Iron Bull acted like a wall to the door, Sera kept shooting until she was out of arrows.  Khash watched them both fall, watched the Iron Bull get tossed aside like a ragdoll.  He could hear Sera angry cries quickly silence.  His breath left him as a sword was driven through him.

He didn’t know when he fell.  The stone floor of the castle was cold.

The doors were pushed open, Leliana was quickly overwhelmed.

Khash could hear something like singing.  Dorian’s magic.  He was so tired.  But he forced his heavy eyes to stay open.  Paya couldn’t see him for the darkspawn and demons but she looked panicked.  Then she followed Dorian through his portal.  And she was gone once again.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The spell was quick.  They only had moments to react.  Dorian jumped in front of Paya to shield her from the spell but only managed to get himself caught in it with her.

A dark green rift came at them and they were swallowed in seconds.

Alexius didn’t seem pleased.  Angry, but not relieved that the thorn in his side was gone.  

And he was right not to be.  The same dark rift reappeared seconds after it had vanished and Paya and Dorian stumbled out.  Dorian greeted his former mentor with a smirk.

“You’ll have to do better than that.”

Chapter Text

It was clear from the very beginning what Paya’s intentions with the mages were.  They deserved their freedom and their aid in sealing the Breach would contribute to the cause.  The Inquisition was preparing to travel to the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes to finally close the tear in the sky.

Harritt outfitted the Inquisition with new armor in the meantime.  Something to improve their protection against the winter cold as well as the blows of enemies.  Blackwall, who enjoyed his time near the forges, aided with this, as did one of Bull’s Chargers.  The mages brought with them their own materials and with the aid of a Tranquil named Oswin, Harritt was able to provide the mages with appropriate attire for their own set of skills.

She was trying a set of clothing made for her in front of her brother now.  It was some fusion of what the chantry mages wore and Inquisition armors.  It looked official.  Something a Grand Enchanter would wear when meeting with a Knight Commander. 

“What do you think?”, she asked, smoothing down the fabric at the front of the robe.

“Are you going to battle or going to an Orlesian ball?”  Khash was sitting on her bed, lacing up a protective corset with leather strips.  He opted to keep on the Dalish armor he’d brought with him--though he did accept a jacket and pants to keep more warm.

“Oh, Khash.  This outfit is far too modest for that.  I’d need a hoop skirt and a hat made of doves.”  She lifted her hair to put it up in a bun.

“I guess you’re right,” he conceded.

She smiled at him.

“So after you close this Breach you’ll be headed home, right?”

Paya turned toward a small mirror placed over her hearth to ensure she’d tucked all of her hair out of the way.  “I’m not sure.  There are still many rifts to clear.  And closing the Breach doesn’t mean that we’ve ended the danger.  We need to find out who caused the explosion in the first place.”

Khash sighed, but did not argue.  “I’ll stay with you until then, sister.  Not that I don’t trust the people you’ve befriended to protect you or anything.  I just don’t feel comfortable not knowing.”

Paya plopped down beside him.  “I know, brother.  Turn to the side so I can pull your hair back.”

He sat the corset aside and began adjusting the straps on his boots, his back turned toward her.  She scooped the hair off of his neck and began braiding it.  It was a common practice between them.  Paya only recently let her hair get to its length.  Khash hated having his hair cut so when Paya wanted hair to play with he always took her place.  

“You cut it before coming here,” Paya noted.

“No, just a trim.  Ionna said it’d help keep the hair healthy.”

“She’s right.  Listen to your elders.”

“She’s not any older than you are, sister.”

Paya giggled and rolled the braid into a bun.  “Are you going to come with us when we go seal it..?”

“I don’t think the Seeker will let any non-mages without templar powers over there.”

“No, probably not.”  Khash turned to look at her.  His eyes were pleading.  “I promise to be careful.”

 “I know you will be…”

“Seeker Cassandra will make sure nothing goes wrong.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The Breach’s ground zero was undisturbed since they had last been there.  A combination of Cassandra’s orders and Solas guidance brought the mages to surround the Breach, all ready to send their magic forth to aid the Herald.

“That robe looks quite handsome on you, Solas,” Paya complimented.  He had upgraded from his old green vest-coat to something with more warmth.  He was bundled up with wolf furs resting over his shoulders.  It was almost comparable to Cullen’s lion mane, but it didn’t overwhelm his figure quite as much.

“As do yours, Herald.”

They exchanged gentle looks before Solas turned toward the mages.  He instructed them to give their power to Paya at once.  She got into position beneath the Breach.  Cassandra stood not far behind her, ready to jump into action should something go wrong.

Paya held her breath as she lifted her marked hand skyward.  It sparked to life and Cassandra gave the call for the mages to cast their spell.

As the beam of energy arced from her palm to the breach, Paya felt as though she were playing tug of war with it.  All at once, she had to pull away from it but continue pushing forward.  Heat traveled from her palm and down her arm with each second the beam stretched outward.  The Breach fought and twisted, but spat no demons to defend itself.  The light it emitted began to fade quickly as it began to fold into itself.  It was as though a rope tying her to the Breach snapped once it was shut.  She fell backward, onto her behind.  All watched the sky in stunned silence.  The storm that was the Breach dissipated like weather, unlike any of the rifts dealt with before.  The sky was clear.

Cassandra helped Paya to her feet and they both turned toward the crowd of mages.  Paya lifted her closed fist, showing their victory.  The mages erupted in cheers.

The mages were sent back.  Cassandra and Solas remained behind but allowed Paya to catch her breath.  There would be celebration when they got back to Haven.

As they walked back to the village, Solas extended a hand to Paya.  “May I see the mark…?”

She silently nodded and offered her hand to him.  Cassandra paused to watch the elves study each other.

Paya watched his face.  She watched his eyes trace the faintly glowing mark.  Goosebumps formed up her arm when he pushed up her sleeve to see if the mark had spread or retracted when the Breach was closed.  Her eyes traveled down to his fingers as they moved along the scars left by the mark.  They were rough and dried out from the cold mountain air.  His hand engulfed her own, keeping her arm steady.

There didn’t appear to be any change in the mark.

“This mark likely will not fade until we find who created it…” he said softly.

He lifted his eyes and caught her staring.  There was a smile, playful and yet restrained.

Cassandra cleared her throat and broke them out of the moment.  Then they finally went back.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

After the mages returned, there was no time to change out of armors as celebrations began.  The tavern bard was playing a jaunty tune to which Haven’s citizens and the Inquisition’s soldiers danced and sang and drank to.

Paya ducked away from the crowds, which mostly kept to the front of the village, and made her way toward Solas’s home.  He was just out front of it, watching the sky as the sun set in the distance.  His hand rested on his chin as he contemplated its hues.  He noticed her before she spoke.

“Herald.  Paya.  Please, join me.”  She nodded and climbed the stairs to his abode.  “Wait right there.”

He ducked into his home for a moment and reemerged with two wine glasses, both filled with drink.  It was a nearly transparent white color that almost glimmered in the remaining sunlight.  “Did you use magic to chill this?” she asked.

“I believe that proves you’ve done the same, yes?”

Paya giggled.  “Well yes.  I like the way it sparkles.”

They touched their glasses together before taking their swigs.  

“So how long do you think the person that created the Breach will come for me?” Paya asked.

Solas’s gaze remained with the sun.  “Likely sooner than we think.  We shouldn’t let our guard down, even now.  But needless worry will not aid us.”

“Leliana has her scouts in the field.  They’ll send word as soon as they see danger.”

“Let us hope.” 

They drank quietly, letting the sky melt to night in front of them.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about your time in Redcliffe,” he broke the silence.

She turned her head toward him.  “When I was sent to the future?”

“Yes.  Are you alright?  I can’t imagine what you saw has left you with pleasant dreams.”

“You wouldn’t be wrong… but I’m alright.  I’ve had closing the Breach to focus on.”

“And now that it is closed?”

“Khash is healthy.  Leliana is still faithful.  Everyone I saw die is alive now.  Redcliffe was just a few hours.  I’ll be alright.”

Solas’s hand moved toward her free one and he slowly lifted it.  Paya imagined he’d have taken both hands if they weren’t holding the drinks.  “If that is genuine and you aren’t forcing yourself, then I’ll accept that.”

She watched his eyes for a moment.  “I am being genuine.”

He gave her hand a squeeze and gently let it down.  “Let us enjoy the rest of the night then.”

Fate seemed that they could not have a quiet night together.  At least not that night.  Just as they had relaxed, alarm bells began sounding.  They only exchanged a brief look with each other before running forward toward the front gate, their wine glasses placed on the stone wall that separated the apothecary’s terrace from the rest of Haven.  They were greeted halfway by Cassandra.

“Cassandra, what’s wrong?” Paya asked.  Cassandra ran beside her.

“I do not yet know.”

As they approached the gates, they found Cullen standing there with a small group of the Inquisition’s higher-ranking troops as well as Leliana and Josephine who appeared to have just arrived as well.

“Cullen?”  Cassandra pleaded for good news from the Commander.

He was in full business mode, responding quickly, “One watch guard reporting.  There’s a massive force approaching over the mountain.”

“Under what banner?” Josephine asked.

Cullen looked at her solemnly.  “None.”

“None?”

Something began to bang on the wooden gate, from beneath it was some sort of light.  And then a voice.

“I can’t come in unless you open!” It was panicked and young.

Without thinking, Paya moved toward the gate.  When she pushed it open she locked her gaze on a young man that had just killed a heavily armored humanoid.  The boy wore a patchwork set of clothes and a large hat that concealed half of his face.

Paya, Cullen, and Cassandra ran forward.  “State your name!” Cullen ordered the young man.

“I am Cole.” He lifted his head to look toward Paya, “I came to warn you! To help!  People are coming to hurt you!” he paused, “You probably already know this.”

“What do you know?”  Paya asked.

“The Templars come to kill you.”

Cullen marched toward Cole, shocked at the statement, “Templars!  This is the Order’s response to our talks with the mages?!”

Cole turned toward Cullen now.  “The Red Templars went to the Elder One,” and then back to Paya, “You know him.  He knows you.  You took his mages,” he pointed toward the mountains as flickers for torchlight began to dot its landscape, “There.”  They could see two silhouettes standing above the approaching masses.  One appeared human.  Their silhouette matched that of a Knight Commander’s armor.  The other was twice the human’s size in height.  It was thin with broad shoulders.  In the darkness of the night, they could not make out what exactly it was. “He’s very angry that you took his mages…”

Paya looked toward Cullen.  “Please tell me there’s a plan, Cullen…!”

“Haven is no fortress.  Our best defense is to control the battle.”  He pointed toward large trebuchets that had been built in preparation for the closing of the Breach.  “Hit that force with everything you can.”  He drew his sword and turned to address the soldiers and mages that were gathering behind them now.  

He gave them the word to fight for their lives.  He seemed to have recognized the human figure somehow in the dark, stating that he was a templar named Samson.  After his spiel, he turned back toward the battle, lifting his sword in a charge.

“Inquisition!  With the Herald!  For your life!  For all of us!”

Cassandra and Solas ran to Paya’s side. They were soon joined by Khash as well. The boy, Cole, seemed to have vanished when Cullen started his speech.

The battle was hard.  Paya and the small team that had assembled had to fight to defend the trebuchets as the ‘red templars,’ as Cole had called them, swarmed them.  They had a sickly red glow about them that reminded Paya of the dark future she had seen in Redcliffe.  Others had mutated into grotesque creatures that resembled the worst sorts of abominations Paya had seen.  They were relentless.

The first trebuchet fired and the party ran to the next.  It was a similar pattern of fighting off red templars and their monstrosities before launching the next blast.

It seemed the horde of red templars had their own firepower.  A dragon appeared, throwing a fireball onto the trebuchet, and then sweeping through the village before flying off to circle back.

Paya shoved her brother toward the front gate.  “Get inside the walls!  Now!”  Khash ran on ahead and Paya reached back to grab Solas, whose gaze was stuck on the dragon.  “Move!”

All outside of Haven’s walls made a mad dash toward its gate.  Cullen stood there, holding the door open and letting in the soldiers.  Cassandra assisted the blacksmith in gathering a last-minute provision and was the last to run into the gates.  She and Cullen slammed the gates shut.

“To the Chantry!” Cullen ordered.

“What about survivors!” Cassandra asked.

“If you can make time, we should be able to help them,” Solas said.

“Divide and conquer,” Paya said.  She quickly directed the party on where to go, with their rendezvous being the chantry.  They were able to save a good handful of people from the burning village.

Paya erected a wall of ice behind the village gate.  She knew it wouldn’t last long but it was the closest thing to a barrier she could create.

When she finally made it to the Chantry, two soldiers were holding the Chantry doors open while a battered Roderick leaned against one as he called people in.

Once everyone had been brought in, the doors were shut and Cole had seemingly materialized in place just in time to allow Roderick to use him as a crutch.  He was clutching his side, which appeared to be bleeding heavily.

Cole noticed Paya’s eyes and explained, “He tried to stop a red templar.  The blade went deep.  He will die.”

Cullen approached Paya soon.  “That dragon stole back any time you created for us,“ he informed.

“It looked like an Archdemon,” Cole said.  He was helping Roderick sit on a lonely wooden chair propped against a wall.  “It was in the Fade, but I’ve seen one.  They look like that.”

“The Fade…?” Paya asked.

“It doesn’t matter what it looks like.  That dragon will cut a path straight through Haven!”

Cole glanced toward Paya and then to Cullen.  “The Elder One doesn’t care about Haven.  He wants the Herald.”

“Then I’ll play the role of bait,” Paya offered.

Solas was close enough to hear this and he approached quickly.  “You do not need to do that.  We still need you to seal the rest of the rifts,” he argued with clinical rationality, but there was a pang of distress in the tone of his voice.  His usual composure had collapsed.

“It doesn’t matter,” Cole continued, slowly bowing his head, concealing his face from all those standing above him, “He wants to kill you but no one else matters.  He’ll crush them.  Destroy anyone that gets in the way,” Cole exhaled, his voice beginning to shake, “I don’t like him.”  

“You don’t like--??” Cullen started but held himself back from snapping at the boy.  He turned back towards Paya and Solas.  “Herald.  There are no tactics we have that will make this survivable.  The one last thing is an avalanche.  If you turned the rest of the trebuchets on the mountain you could cause one last major slide.”

“Except..” Paya started then trailed off.

“That would cover the entire village,” Cullen agreed, “We’re dying.  But we can decide how.  Many don’t get that chance.”

Paya nodded shallowly and looked at Solas.  He was studying the Commander’s face.  His brow was furrowed with frustration but he said nothing.  She took a hold of his hand and squeezed it, much like he had done for her earlier that evening.

“Roderick can help,” Cole spoke again, “He wants to say it before he dies.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

There was a path the citizens of Haven could escape through.  Roderick, with Cole’s aid, would lead them out of a Haven through a secret passage hidden beneath the chantry.  Paya elected to stay behind to trigger the avalanche that would destroy the village and conceal their getaway.

“You can’t do this alone, Paya!”  Khash’s voice echoed in her head.  They argued while the Inquisition was herding the villagers out.

“Khash, I have to.  It’s easier for one person to run away than four.”

“Come, da’len , she has made her decision,“ Solas beckoned Khash.  He had already had his argument with Paya, but much quieter.  There was nothing if not the stubbornness of the Dalish.

Now she stood at the largest trebuchet.  She had set wards around it as well as a wall of ice blocking the red templars’ main path to her.  They were still able to get through.  And Paya needed to turn the trebuchet so it would strike the mountain.

Three waves of templars and finally the trebuchet was in position.  Paya was ragged and out of breath.  Adrenaline was beginning to fade and she could now feel an arrow embedded into her shoulder.  Warmth where she had been sliced across the back..  It’d have to stay until she could get to a healer. If she could get to a healer.  She needed to fire the trebuchet before the dragon came upon her again.   Before she could climb her way to the wench, a fiery ball struck the ground near her, knocking her off of her feet.

Through the fire created by the dragon, the silhouette that had been beside Samson before emerged.  He was twisted and mangled.  A human face that seemed to have fused with its helmet.  He looked something akin to a darkspawn emissary but larger and still attached to the solid ground.

He spoke with a low bellow, “Pretender.  You toy with forces beyond your ken no more.”

She pushed herself back onto her feet.  “I’m not pretending to be anything!” Paya shouted back at him.  

He ignored her, “Know me.  Know what you have pretended to be.  Exalt the Elder One.  Exalt the will of Corypheus.  You will kneel.”  He pointed toward her, growling his commands.

“I won’t!”

“Keep your pride.  I am here for the Anchor,” he summoned forth an orb that appeared to be made of veridium.  He met eyes with her and then ignited his palm in red energy, throwing it toward her.

And then the mark on her hand began to spark to life.  It burned in protest.  Deeper and harsher than it had since this had all begun.  She gripped her wrist and pulled her hand to her chest, doubling over onto her knees.

“It is your fault, ‘Herald’.  You interrupted a ritual, years in the planning.  And instead of dying you stole its Purpose.”

Paya’s hand was yanked forward.  This creature -- this  Elder One -- Corypheus was pulling it with his magic.  The orb in his hand began to glimmer and spark in a similar way to Paya’s palm.

“I do not know how you survived,” Corpyheus continued, “But what marks you as ‘touched’ -- what you flail at rifts.  I crafted to assault the very heavens.”

Paya was able to steal her hand back from its tug-of-war with the Elder One and began to struggle to her feet once again.

“You use the Anchor to undo my work.  The gall!”

Corypheus stopped her run, grabbing her up by the wrist and dangling her in the air.  She was like a child’s toy compared to his towering figure.  

“I once breached the Fade in the name of Another, to serve the Old Gods of the Empire in person ,” his grip tightened on her wrist.  It was near snapping.  “I found only Chaos and Corruption, dead whispers...for a thousand years, I was confused. No more.”

She met his eyes.  His face was mangled and deformed but his eyes appeared like that of any mortal’s.  They were not the eyes of any demon or darkspawn.  They were nearly human, as he was once before.

“I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own.  To champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world.”

He held her so that her face was close to his.  His permanent scowl parted as he bared his teeth, exposing the rage bubbling from within.  “Beg that I shall succeed, for I have seen the Throne of the Gods.  And it was empty .”

Now done threatening her, he threw her at the trebuchet.  The wound on her back screamed as she connected with the wood.

“The Anchor is permanent.  You have spoiled it with your stumbling!”

Paya lifted herself, gripping the arm attached to the anchor now and using the trebuchet as leverage.  She felt herself getting heavier and couldn’t hear him anymore as he continued to speak at her.  In the distance, she saw a flare go off in the sky.  A quick survey of her surroundings, she noticed the winch of the trebuchet had been turned already, likely meant to attack before the dragon swooped onto the village.  It just needed one more good push.

“... you will die …” his voice bellowed.

Paya met his eyes once more.  “I know I will die.  Maybe soon.  But not today.”  

With all the remaining might she had she kicked the trebuchet winch and set its ammunition flying.  This distracted both the Elder One and his dragon.

Paya took off immediately.  She didn’t have a planned destination -- she just needed to get away from her foe.  She didn’t even think to turn as the dragon roared at her, or when she heard its wings beat the air as it took off, likely with Corypheus.

As snow hit her back, she was thrown into some opening in the ground, previously blocked off while the village was being fortified.  Her escape was concealed but she was left unconscious in a dark tunnel.  Alone.

Chapter Text

At the front of the exodus was Cullen.  He took the lead from Roderick once the passage of escape became self-explanatory.  The Inquisition soldiers spread through the crowd to ensure they didn't leave anyone behind.  They made a brief camp while still within view of Haven to assess the severity of injuries and to treat the most critical. Mother Giselle held prayer with the faithful.  All asked the Maker to guide the Herald to them.  The journey began again after those nearest to death were allowed to pass.  They were able to see the mighty Elder One’s confrontation with Paya, and someone sent up a flare to signal to her their departure.  They had left before she triggered the avalanche.  For all things considered, many believed she was buried with the village.

People still held onto hope, however.  It was Khash's idea to leave fires behind for the Herald.  As the night grew darker, he had become more anxious that she’d freeze to death if not entombed by the avalanche.

After every hour of travel, another fire lit, to guide Paya after them and to keep the cold off of her.

They didn't have a clear destination -- just somewhere not totally exposed.  However, it seemed the natural shape of the valley would lead them to an area where the mountain stretched over the earth.  There was a crater left by something long before anyone’s time and a narrow path leading into it that was concealed by the gradual slope of a hill.  Ancient erosion had further scooped out the side of the mountain and left a half roof over their heads.  The moon still shone from above the shelf.  Once reaching the top of that hill, they had found their place to stop for the night.

A patrol of Inquisition soldiers was set to welcome the Herald once she arrived. Organization was minimal but the clergy seemed to have most of Haven’s refugees under control.  Most tents were given to civilians first and then to the soldiers and agents.  Tents could fit four people comfortably but there were many who opted for the open air and to huddle next to one of the many fires throughout the camp.

Khash shared a tent with Varric and Solas. They assembled it toward the entrance into the crater. It was left open toward the path and a fire was placed in front so that it could be seen by Paya when she crested over the hill. It also warmed the inside of the tent this way.  Solas and Khash had aligned themselves in the moment due to mutual concern for Paya, and Varric acted as emotional support for Khash.

Solas stood beside the fire, leaning upon his mage staff. He scanned the range of the crater every so often, but most of the time was spent watching the dancing flames.  He listened intently to the flames’ whispers.  Varric was sitting near the mouth of the tent.  He had a foot propped onto a leg and had laid Bianca out across it as he delicately cleaned her. Khash sat in his bed inside the tent, eyes glued to the entrance.  He prayed to all the Creators that they’d bring Paya back to them. 

Snow slowly began falling. Everything was muted.

Khash watched a patrol enter his line of sight, drawing him out of his trance. He gathered his space for a moment.  He could smell the burning wood and hear the crackling of the fire.  He could also hear the gears in Varric's crossbow shifting as he worked on it.  The furs laid out on his bed were scratchy and clearly made for necessity and not comfort. The fire was warm but every so often a wind blew in and nipped his nose and the apples of his cheeks. His attention was drawn to a childhood scar on his thigh as it itched.

He moved his eyes toward Solas.  He thought his head must be cold without any hair on it.  He spoke before really thinking,  "Solas?"

The bald elf turned his head first and then the rest of his body.  "Yes, Khash?"

"How reliable is… are the fires created by magic sustainable?  Paya has tried to explain it before, but it flew over my head."

“If she were fully rested and able to sit still for a few moments,” Solas started, “then a fire would be sustainable.”

“But she’s neither of those things…”

“No,” he looked into the tent at Khash.  “But your sister is a miracle worker, da’len .  I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

“If not the Maker, there’s certainly someone watching out for her, at least,” Varric interjected as he admired the reflection in Bianca’s metal bits.

Khash got off of his bed and padded out to stand beside Solas.  He embraced himself against the cold wind and glared at the horizon.  “That creature.  It looked like a demon.”

“A darkspawn, more like,”  Varric said, “I fought a good few alongside Hawke.  It gives me a bad taste in my mouth thinking about it.”

Khash was suddenly panicked, turning toward Varric, “Do you think she could have been tainted?”

“No.  She’d need the blood in her system,” Varric said, “And it looked less like they were doing battle than she was letting that thing monologue,” his voice disparaging the thought of the creature.

Khash clenched his fists against his jacket and hunched against the cold.  He resembled a small child who had lost their mother in the market.

“I agree with Master Tethras,” Solas said.  He returned his eyes to the flame for further study.  “She’s survived worse.  We just need patience.”

“If she isn’t here by sunrise I’m going after her.”

“Don’t do that, Sentinel,” Varric stopped him, “You would end up getting lost out there too and we can’t go looking for both of you.”

“But..”

“The best thing for you to do is stay put and welcome her when she arrives,” Varric assured.

Khash lowered his guard, gathering up the tears in his eyes with a thumb.  “Alright.  Fine.”

“Get some sleep.  You need it,” Varric nodded to him.

“Yeah..”  

Khash climbed onto his bed and attempted to lose consciousness in the scratchy furs.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

She first only felt the cold upon waking.  The pain in her shoulder from the arrow still embedded and the warmth of the gash across her back came second.  When she opened her eyes and only saw darkness, she willed herself to ignite a flame in her palm.  It was an old tunnel.  Too disused to be the one the citizens of Haven escaped through, but likely leading to a similar location.  It ached to rise to her feet but she had to.  She did not know how long she had been unconscious but the frost hadn’t yet taken her so it couldn’t have been that long.  She found a piece of wood that had broken from her fall and placed the flame in her hand on it.  The mark on her hand -- the anchor -- no longer a searing sting, but more of a fizzling throb.

It didn’t take many steps for her to find trouble -- a small handful of shades.  She had lost her staff in the fall and didn’t have much will for a full battle.  She held out the anchor and without warning a small rift appeared above the demons.  They were torn asunder by the rift and then it was gone as fast as it had appeared.

It was as though she had relieved some built-up pressure in the anchor, and the ache faded away.  Paya stared at her palm in stunned silence.  Once the light had faded, she began trekking out of the tunnel.  She could hear the wind already.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Khash only got a couple of hours of sleep.  He was the one out by the fire now.  Varric had drifted, and Solas had left to patrol the camp himself.  Cullen approached the tent. 

 “Khash.”

“Yes-ser?” Khash instinctively straightened up.

“Join our patrol,” Cassandra appeared beside him with another soldier who carried a bundle in his arms.  “I know you’re worried about her.”

Khash relaxed.  “Thank you, Commander.”

They circled the camp first.  The bundle the soldier carried was blankets and they passed them out to those who needed them.  They found many were still awake.  The air was almost vibrating here.  Khash wondered if this is what it felt like when he heard Solas mention the veil being thin.

Speaking of the elf, Khash spotted him quietly talking with a small group of other elves -- servants from the village.  He felt Khash’s gaze and turned his head just enough to side-eye him.  Confrontation was avoided as one of the clergy beckoned for Solas to help heal someone’s injuries.  He disappeared behind a tent soon enough.

Alexander was in a circle with a few other mages.  He was losing at a game of chess with Dorian.  “You weren’t nearly this good when you were nineteen,” he heard Alexander mumble.  Dorian’s eyes crinkled with his laugh.

The Iron Bull and his Chargers had their own corner.  Several children were huddled around them and their fire, fascinated by the unique appearance of the Qunari.  Khash hoped they wouldn’t repeat too much of what they heard the mercs say.

He hadn’t caught sight of the others in Paya’s circle of friends.  

Cullen turned the patrol around to head toward the entrance into the crater.  The soldier with them lit a torch just as they were leaving the glow of the camp.  The snow had long stopped but there was still quite a wind they had to brace against.  Khash kept his face directed at the prints left behind by Cullen, so he could use them himself. He was thankful for the braid Paya had tied his hair into. 

“There she is!”  Cullen’s voice somehow echoed against the wind.

Cassandra’s pace quickened, “Thank the Maker!”

Khash lifted his gaze from the snow in time to see his sister collapsing to her knees.

She was ragged.  The fancy robes Harritt and the Tranquil had created for her were in tatters and she definitely would be in need of healing. As Khash engulfed her in his embrace, he could feel her shivering.  She curled her arms against her chest and moved closer to his body heat.  Like a sigh of relief, she fell limp in his arms.

“Let me,” Cullen gracefully lifted Paya from Khash’s arms, ever the knight in shining armor.  She was small against Cullen’s large frame.  

They took her to the clerics’ medicine tent.  Mother Giselle and Adan were amongst them applying poultices to wounds.  

“This again?” Despite the disdain Adan was attempting to convey with his expression he sounded relieved.  

Giselle had a bed prepared for Paya and Cullen laid her across it delicately.  He, Cassandra, and the soldier left but Khash pulled a seat up beside her.  The mysterious Cole and Chancellor Roderick were nearby.  He never left the man’s side since they’d left Haven.  He would whisper something every so often but to no one in particular.

“Elf, come help,” Adan beckoned, and Solas appeared from one of the tent’s corners.  He looked confused at Khash but then glanced down at the newest patient.

“ Ahn vir gira Na shirem, lethal'lan?”

As he took in the sight of the Herald, his expression hardened.  Khash swore he saw some concern in Solas’s eyes but he had forced it back down.

Solas placed his palm over her head, hovering a few inches above it.  A blue glow came over his hand.  Khash had seen it before when Solas had cast healing spells on the battlefield.  Slowly, Solas moved his hand down the length of her body.  He spoke clinically, “I believe we may need to remove some of her clothing.  At the very least the outermost layers.”  He moved his eyes toward Khash’s.  “The injuries are mainly surface from what I can tell but they do need to be cleaned and bandaged.”

Khash nodded begrudgingly.  Adan did the courtesy of closing the tent to avoid prying eyes.  The interior was thankfully well-lit.

Giselle saw to most of the treatment.  She was the most experienced with such injuries out of the healers there.  The back injury was the easiest.  A simple poultice and bandaging.  Khash was sent out to get fresh clothes while they dug out the remnants of the arrow in her shoulder.

She woke during this process, but Solas used his magic to push her back into unconsciousness.  His magic was also used to prevent the wound from bleeding as the foreign object was extracted.  Poultice.  Packing.  Bandage.  Khash arrived with clothes just in time and she was dressed.  The tent was opened up once again and a few onlookers appeared.

“Khash,” Solas called.

“What?”

“Let us give her some room to breathe.   Mother Giselle will be here to keep an eye on her.”

“No,”  Khash was curt with his reply.  He firmly planted himself in his seat beside Paya.

Solas looked at him sternly but nonetheless sighed.  “Very well.”  And he departed.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

News spread quickly that the Herald of Andraste had survived and was in the camp.  The Inquisition’s advisors -- Cullen, Josephine, Leliana, -- and Cassandra appeared in the next few hours to see the Herald’s state of being.  Confirming she was here and breathing.  Now they knew she was alive, planning for the next step could occur.  The discussion quickly devolved into bickering and the bickering became shouting.  Khash rose from his seat to attempt to intervene.  It seemed he only added to the yelling.

Paya stirred to wakefulness and lay there, listening.  

Ages seemed to pass as they argued.  A soft groan escaped Paya as she sat up.

“Still yourself,” Giselle spoke gently, “You need rest.”

She pushed herself into a sitting position and watched the bickering advisors.

“They’ve been arguing in circles for hours,” Paya complained.

“A luxury they have, thanks to you.  The enemy could not follow and with time to doubt, we turn to blame.”

“We don’t know where the enemy is.”

“We do not know where we are...That may be why, despite the numbers he still commands, there is no sign of the enemy.  That or you are believed dead..” she listed a few other possible reasons why they were safe for the time being.  “I cannot claim to know the mind of that creature.  Only his effect on us…”

There was a pause.  Khash returned to the tent in that time. 

“You’re awake..?”  he returned to his seat at her side.

“Despite your efforts, it seems,” she gave a smile and nodded toward the sulking advisors.

He put a foot up on the stool and hugged that knee to his chest.  “Sorry…”

“Are you alright?”

“I’m not the one who faced off against a…darkspawn demon thing.”

Paya watched the fire outside of the tent carefully.  “His name is Corypheus.”

“I’m definitely not going to remember that.”

The smile this brought out of her was more genuine.

“What are we going to do now, sister?”

“I don’t know…”

Cassandra finally became fed up with the argument the advisors were still having, and with a loud exclamation, she ended it.  “Enough!  This is getting us nowhere!”

“We can agree on that much!”  Cullen shouted back.

The four dispersed though didn’t travel far.  Leliana sat beside Josephine near the fire, Cullen stood by himself to the side, and Cassandra had marched toward their makeshift war table to glare at their maps.

“Arguing like this doesn’t inspire much hope,” Paya mostly said to herself.

“This situation is complicated,” Giselle responded.  Paya looked toward her once again.  “We witnessed our defender stand and fall.  Many thought you perished with Haven.  But we have now seen you rise again.  We have seen what seems to equate to a miracle.  Our trials have begun to seem ordained and puts what we have endured, what we must come to believe, into question.”

“I am not one of the undead.  I didn’t come back to life.”

“No.  People cannot return from the other side of the veil.  But the people know what they saw.  Or perhaps what they needed to see.  The Maker works in both the moment and how it is remembered.  Can we truly say the heavens are not with us?”

“It seems it doesn’t matter what I believe,” Paya said, “I know that I’m not chosen by Andraste or the Maker.  If the Creators guide me they’ve done so in mysterious ways.  And even then…” she trailed off.  She did not wish for her brother to know her doubts.

Giselle replied in earnest, “Whether you agree that this is the work of the Maker, or not, may not be important, but the belief in you, in what you have accomplished is .  They will look to you as an example.  Perhaps for the rest of your life.”

Paya pressed her eyes shut and took a deep breath.  She released it with a sigh and looked toward Khash.

“I’d like to go for a walk… could you help me up?” she asked.

He did so and she walked out of the tent.

Josephine and Leliana were distracted in their own conversation, and Cassandra was tracing something out on a map, but Cullen looked at Paya and seemed immediately embarrassed.  She gave him a gentle nod but walked on.  She wanted to see everyone.  Do a headcount of her friends.

Shadows fall, And hope has fled

Despite her status, she felt those who took notice of her did not know or recognize her, or they did not wish to bother her.

Steel your heart, The dawn will come

She first found the Tevinters.  The chess match Khash observed was long over but now they were huddled with Varric, Sera, and Blackwall playing Diamondback.  

Alexander noticed her first and stood.  “Herald.  How are you feeling?  I heard that Mother Giselle was tending to you.”

“I’m alright,” she replied, “just a few scrapes.”

“A few scrapes?  Paya.  You dropped a mountain on yourself,” he retorted.

“Hey there, Daffodil, welcome back to the land of the living,”  Varric greeted, “

The shepherd's lost, And his home is far

Paya hugged her arms to herself and stood beside them.  “How are you all holding up?” she asked.

“To be frank, you were the one that was dead, remember?” Dorian teased.

Sera shivered, “Don’t joke like that.  I don’t wanna imagine her face like that.”

“You gave us quite a scare, Herald,” Blackwall replied to her question politely.

“Yeah,” Sera agreed, “Magic Pants 1 and Magic Pants 2 were cryin’ abou’cha.”

“No we were not,” Alexander was quick to correct.

Keep to the stars, The dawn will come

Paya gave quiet chuckles, restrained by the bandaging beneath her clothing.  “I’m going to see how everyone else is doing,” she said before leaving them.

She found Bull conversing with Vivienne.

“Hey, boss.  Glad to see you’re up,” Bull nodded toward her.

“You must try and avoid doing that again, my dear,” Vivienne said, “A lot would fall apart if we lost you.”

The night is long, And the path is dark

She began to make her way toward Solas’s tent, and in order to do that she had to pass by the medicine tent.  She could hear Mother Giselle’s voice as she sang a Chantry hymn.

She found Solas, though not at his tent.  He was watching the crowd that was now forming near the Mother.  They found each other's eyes and she smiled, but his expression was serious.  She moved quickly toward him, nonetheless.

Look to the sky, For one day soon

Leliana's voice soon joined Giselle’s.  And the crowd, too, was beginning to join her.

“Solas,”  Paya was breathless.  It probably was not wise to half-jog to him in her current condition.

“Lethallan.  I’m glad to see you awake,” his eyes softened, “You shouldn’t be up yet.”

“I know, but I...needed the air,” Paya explained.

The dawn will come

Paya, her advisors, and her circle of friends met in front of that medicine tent once the crowd returned to their tents to determine what they would be doing next.  She took this chance to explain Corypheus -- who he was, the claims he made, and what his goals would be.  At some point, a well, shit , was said beneath someone’s breath, but she wasn’t able to place it.

“He wanted to use this,” she held up the marked hand, “To tear down the heavens and make himself some… god.”

“This adds some explanation to what happened at the Conclave,” Leliana half mumbled.

“We should not remain here for long,” Cullen stated, “If he returns for an attack we are defenseless.”

“But where do we go?” Josephine asked.

“Do you have a map of the Frostbacks?” Solas stepped into the conversation.  All eyes turned toward him.  

Cullen left to get their map.

Chapter Text

Solas knew of a fortress in the Frostbacks.  It was connected to some of the ancient histories he had experienced while walking the Fade.   A few days of travel was all they would need.  The Herald would be the one given credit for locating the place in the public eye but her inner circle all knew the source of the information.  During their travels, Solas also relayed to Paya that the orb Corypheus held was of Elvhen make.  It would lead to trouble if it got out that the elves created the object that caused the Breach.  They agreed to do their best to conceal this until they could steal it from the Elder One. 

The fortress was called Skyhold.  A fitting name for an ancient castle sat upon the mountaintops.  Tall, old stone walls that hummed with untold histories.  What exactly Solas knew of its past, he did not share.  For that matter, most were unconcerned.  The structure was sound despite its obvious state of disrepair.  It wouldn’t take long to clear up the dust and debris from its ages of isolation.

Paya recovered quickly from her injuries, but she had a loss of mobility in her right shoulder, where the arrow had gone through.  It wasn’t severe, however, and only noticeable when she tried to lift it above her head.

She was declared Inquisitor shortly after their arrival.  She was somewhat unsurprised -- she'd overheard a few of their discussions about the topic.  It was declared for peace. 

Paya climbed toward what would be her bedroom.  It was the highest room in the entire fortress and she could see the entire valley that surrounded the mountain from its balcony.  Inside was a hearth and a small study space.  A large red rug concealed the stone flooring in the center of the room,  stretching under the desk of the study space and under the bed.  The bed was huge,  with a red comforter and yellow down pillows.   She lay across it.  If there was one thing she'd preferred about the cities over living with the Dalish, it was the bedding.

She didn't realize she had fallen asleep until her brother had come in to wake her. 

"This place is like a maze," he complained.  He took a look around the room with his hands on his hips.  "They really put you in the master suite…"

"Have arrangements been made for you?" Paya was busy rubbing sleep out of her eyes. 

"Oh yeah.  Your Nightingale and Josephine have a way to get... like... everything."

Paya lowered her hands to look at him.  He had his hair tossed into a bun and wore a grey tunic with long sleeves that had silvery embroidery around the hems and swirling black detailing.  

"Where did you get that..?" Paya asked.  It certainly wasn't something he owned previously. 

"Madame de Fer said I needed to be presentable as the Inquisitor's brother." He turned to show the ensemble off to her.  "I was worried she was going to dress me like a peacock but I'm quite pleased, actually."

"You make it look quite handsome."

"She had something made for you too," he said. 

"I'd love to see it.  Though I do want to check in on everyone.  I haven't heard much since we arrived here and I was made Inquisitor."

"I hope they don't expect me to start calling you that."

"Please don't," Paya chuckled out. 

She linked her arm with his.  "Let's head down."

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

When exiting from the main building you had to move down a flight of stairs to reach one level of the courtyard and then down another to get to the lower courtyard.  The infirmary had been set up near the stairs here and they spotted the mysterious Cole pacing around the wounded, mumbling to himself.   The surgeon paid no heed. 

"You're Cole, right?" Khash asked. 

Cole lifted his head.  His hat was a leather halo around his pale face.   "That is my name.  You are Khash.  You don't leave footprints in the snow."

"I know Sera says that but that's kind of an exaggeration."

Paya glanced around at their surroundings.  "What are you doing here?"

"I am helping."

Khash frowned.  "Helping?"

Cole stepped closer.  "Solas explained what I am," he stared directly into Khash's eyes, "I find the hurt, so I can help take it away."

"I think I missed that explanation," Paya commented. 

Cole turned his eyes onto Paya.  He blinked like he had to think about it. "Solas says he's a spirit," Khash explained.  "Compassion."

Paya processed what Khash said quickly then asked,  "And why are you helping here?" 

"The injured and dying have more simple solutions.  A salve. A bandage.  A quick and painless death instead of a long and painful one.  A comforting lie or relieving truth."

"May I watch you?"

"Paya... that's a little morbid," Khash stammered.  Cole tipped his head to the side.

"I want to learn.  It'll be easier to see how you think if I see it in action…" Without another word, Cole approached one of the injured.  Paya looked toward Khash.  "I'll meet you in the tavern?"

"Uh… Alright."

Paya spent a few hours with Cole.  He recited the thoughts of the men and then attempted to determine the best way to respond.  Paya stepped in a few times when she thought he was acting too quickly.  She even helped him help.  She was no healer but she could do basic first aid. 

Solas approached them as they were both hunched over a man whose last wishes spilled from Cole's lips. 

"I'm glad to see you two getting along."

Both turned around like children caught doing something they were told not to.  He laughed. 

"Solas."

"Inquisitor."

They both smiled.

Cole called cheerfully, “She likes the way your nose crinkles when you smile.”

Paya’s freckled cheeks turned pink and she pulled her eyes away from Solas bashfully.  “I like to see you happy is all.”

Solas stepped closer, “I enjoy your smile as well, Inquisitor.  If I might say.”

She watched his face.  Not detecting deceit, she nodded.  “You may.”

A pause.

“Would you like to join us in Herald’s Rest later?” Paya asked, “I wanted to have everyone come together for a meal again.  I haven’t really spoken with any of our friends since we arrived here.”

“That sounds like a pleasant idea.”

She looked relieved to hear that.  “Then I should go hunt everyone else down.  That was my intention before I ran into Cole.”

“Then I’ll leave you to it.  I meant to have a discussion with Cole myself.”

She smiled and gave a nod to both men before jogging toward the stables.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“How is she?”  he asked Cole once she had left his range of hearing.

Cole looked toward him but not at him.  He spoke like a bard,  “Leading is not the hard part.  She takes to it naturally.  But she grieves the lives lost in Haven.  ‘I could have done more to stop it.  Why do I still live while they do not?’ But she will not share.  ‘It is my own burden.’  But seeing you makes those thoughts quiet if only for a moment.”

He turned his head to follow the path Paya had gone away from them.  “Thank you for telling me, Cole.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

She convinced almost everyone to join successfully.  However, Cullen and Cassandra had some business to attend to, Vivienne wasn’t much for the tavern environment, and Josephine and Leliana had their own plans already.

Paya had informed Cabot, the new barkeep, of her plans earlier in the day so a spot had been arranged.  He was happy to have them as long as they were paying.  Two tables were pushed together to accommodate the number and size of those attending.

She tried to dress casually.  She left her hair down for once and decided warmth would be the goal for tonight’s fashion.  She even opted to wear soled boots.

They were all stories and laughs and pleasant drinks.  Sera notably only got virgin drinks and Khash stopped after one mug.  Cole touched neither beverage nor food and was pleased enough to just be with people.  Solas had brought a bottle of Rosé.  Where he got it, he did not say, but Paya could see the familiar glimmer left behind by frost magic.  Alexander had become more comfortable around the group and looked less like he was trying to retreat into himself.  He was still very careful with his words but to the untrained ear he just seemed like a thoughtful individual.  The Iron Bull and Dorian bickered about their backgrounds to each other, though it was clear to everyone on the outside that, at least for Bull, this was some form of flirtation.

Once mostly everyone had gotten a decent amount of drink into their systems, more personal questions came.

“So, Solas, Sera, and I were talking and we had a question for you,” Blackwall started.

Solas preemptively made the face of a disapproving older brother, “Ah, yes.  This should be offensive.  Ask your question,” he lifted his glass to his lips.

“You make friends with spirits in the Fade. So... um, are there any that are more than just friends?  If you know what I mean.”

Solas nearly spat his drink out, and fumbled over his words in his response, “Oh, for-- really?!”

Sera cackled from her side of the table.  Blackwall defended, “Look, it's a natural thing to be curious about!”

“For a twelve-year-old!”

“It's a simple yes or no question!”

Solas sat his glass down firmly and held his face, “Nothing about the Fade or spirits is simple, especially not that.”

Blackwall smirked and leaned in, “So you do have experience in these matters,” he lowered his voice like he was trying to whisper, but everyone had heard anyway.

“I did not say that.”

“Don't panic. It'll be our little secret.”

 Solas put his hands down flat on the table and shot daggers at Blackwall.  “Ass.”

The whole table was laughing now.  Seeing Solas so flustered was a rare thing.  He met Paya’s eyes briefly, and his ears turned red in their blush.  

Dorian became his saving grace, changing the subject, “A little birdie told me we would be going to a ball in the near future?”

“That’s right,” Alexander added, “At the Winter Palace?”

“Oh, yes,” Paya replied, “It seems to be the intended location of the assassination we heard about when we were thrown into the future.  So we’re going there to stop it.”

“I don’t know whether I should look forward to it or be afraid of it,” Khash said into his empty mug.  

“We’ll be fine,” Paya reassured.

“Will you be limited in who you are permitted to bring?” Solas asked.

Paya smiled at him, “I’d like everyone to be able to attend.”

The rest of the evening remained casual and homely.  When they finally dispersed, Solas requested a walk with the Inquisitor.  He wished to speak privately.  She accepted.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

They were in Haven again.  It was daylight.  “Why are we in Haven?” she asked him.

“Haven is familiar.  It will always be important to you,” he replied.

It was snowing.  But it wasn’t cold.  The wind blew quietly against her ears.  Solas led her to the Chantry and into the cells beneath it.  It was a dark room with only torches and the gaps in the hallway behind them to light it.

In the center of the room, dropped haphazardly, were the shackles she wore when she first awoke in these cells.  Where she was first interrogated by Cassandra.  With hindsight, she could look on that memory with some fondness.

“How long did you stay by my side?” she asked, studying her shackles.

“Three days.  You were a mystery.  Still are,” he turned toward her, “I ran every test I could imagine.  Searched the Fade.  And I found nothing.  Cassandra suspected duplicity.  She threatened to have me executed as an apostate if I didn’t produce results.”

Paya laughed through her nose and lifted her eyes to his, “That doesn’t surprise me.  I think she’s threatened each of us at some point.”

His pinky found hers, absently linking them together.  “Yes,” he spoke with a chuckle in his chest.  Then he realized what his hand was doing and pulled it back.  Instead, he offered his arm and she rested her hand upon the crook of his elbow. 

They exited the chantry and stood looking over the village.  The Breach was heavy in the sky.  “I feared you would never wake,” he said, “You were sent physically through the Fade.  How could a mortal survive that?  I was frightened.  Frustrated.  The spirits I might have consulted were driven away by the Breach,”  He pulled his arm away from her to face her, “I had no faith in Cassandra, nor did she in me.  I desired to help but it was more tempting to flee.”

She tucked a loose piece of hair out of her face.  “I’m glad you didn’t.”

“As am I…” He was different here.  Less guarded.  Solas elsewhere was both easy to read but hard to decipher.  As quickly as an emotion crossed his face he would snuff it out just as soon.  But here, he let his expressions play out plainly.

He approached the ledge of the Chantry terrace and extended his hand outward, toward the Breach.  “I told myself:  one more attempt to seal the rifts.  I tried and failed.  No ordinary magic could affect them.  I watched the rifts expand and grow.  I resigned myself to flee. And then you awoke and came to save us.”

In the back of her mind, Paya felt Solas’s grip on her wrist as he lifted it toward the very first rift she sealed.

He turned back toward her.  “It seems you hold the key to our salvation,” he quoted himself from that first day.  He held his hand out to her and she gifted it to him.  He turned her palm toward the sky.  The anchor responded to him with a warm glow.  It did not cause her pain.  “You had sealed it with a gesture,” the smile softened from his face as he met her eyes.  He became serious.  “And right then… I felt the whole world change…”

“That must be some sort of exaggeration,” Paya replied, “The world changed before I got there.”

“You change… everything.”  He had become quiet.  There was a vulnerability in the change.  He was soft.  Handling something with fragility.  Was it her or himself?

He traced along the shape of the anchor on her hand.  Big, rough fingers.  Unlike most elves in their size.  Unlike most mages in their wear.  He was tall for an elf, like her brother.  A whole head taller than her.  Most elves she knew were close to her height or shorter.  He smelled of pinesap and dirt or freshly fallen leaves.  He had many angles in his face.  Freckles on his cheeks and across his nose.  His eyes were warmly gray.  His lips were soft and pink.

“Solas…” she spoke, matching his energy.  She lifted her free hand to touch his face.  His cheek was warm and his cheekbone fit snug in the cup of her hand.

He removed his eyes from her hand and locked them with hers.

She moved before thinking.  She pushed up onto her toes and pulled his face down to meet hers, pressing their lips into a brief kiss.  She suddenly felt like she was on fire and she pulled away quickly, removing her hands from him, suddenly embarrassed by the personal intrusion.

Before she could escape, he took a hold of her arms and pulled her back into him, just about lifting her.  He crushed his soft mouth against hers.  Then one-by-one he removed his hands from her arms and wrapped them around her, pulling her close to him.  She slipped her hands between his arms and gripped the back of his shirt.  Heat and hunger.  She felt the brushing of a tongue against her lower lip but he broke the kiss before letting her respond.  He pulled back for a moment, changed his mind, and went back to her.  Another moment.  He broke the kiss again and let her go.  

“We shouldn’t…” he said.  The heat of the kiss left him out of breath despite its brevity.  “It isn’t right,” he continued, “Not even here.”

“What do you mean ‘not even here?’”

He smiled playfully. “Where did you think we were?”

Paya took a step back to scan the area.  Haven.  It was whole.  Then the sky and the angry Breach there.  The Breach.  There shouldn’t be one there.

“This isn’t real…”

“That’s a matter of debate.” He gently took a hold of her hands once more, pulling them close together.  “Probably best discussed after you…” he leaned close to her ear; his voice dripped with satisfaction.

“Wake up.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Paya bolted awake, sitting up in her bed, alone in her chambers.  She didn’t remember coming here.  She didn’t even recall falling asleep.  The sun was rising.  She rose, put on fresh clothing, and descended to the main chamber of the fortress.

Chapter Text

Paya and her advisors, along with Khash were meeting in the war room.  The Ball at the Winter Palace would be in a couple of months -- the 21st of Haring.  There was much that could be done in the meantime.

“So first we’ll head to the Fallow Mire and then make our way to the Storm Coast to deal with the Blades of Hessarian…”  Paya reviewed the current plan.  “Then it’s back to Skyhold to prepare for Halamshiral.”

“That woman Varric wanted you to meet with is here, too,” Khash noted.

Paya looked at him, “Did you see her?”

“Yeah, but Varric was trying to sneak her onto the battlements without Cassandra’s noticing.”  

“That bodes well,” Cullen attempted to mumble under his breath.

“I didn’t know you could do sarcasm, Commander,” Khash quipped.  Cullen became flustered and changed the subject.

“I suggest you begin preparing for travel soon.  It’ll be best if you leave for the Mire tomorrow.”

“I agree,” Paya replied, “You’re all dismissed.”

The advisors left and Paya leaned against the table for a moment, letting out a heavy sigh.  Khash knocked on her shoulder as he walked out.  She took her moment and then followed.  

The woman Varric was introducing her to was named Marian Hawke.  The Marian Hawke.  Champion of Kirkwall.  

She was a tall woman with amber-colored hair and silvery-blue eyes.  She had a round motherly face with a coppery-red tattoo that stretched across her nose and cheeks like branches -- something somewhat common in rural Ferelden.  She and Varric were speaking casually.  Something about the whereabouts of a child and her former companions.

“She’s with Merrill right now.  I haven’t been able to get a hold of Isabela.  Fenris is still in Tevinter.”

“Damn, I was hoping I might get to meet the kid.”

Hawke smiled.  She had a dimple on her left cheek.  “I’m sure you’ll get to.  She’s already pretty sassy.”

“Am I interrupting?” Paya asked.  Both turned toward her.

“Not at all,” Hawke reassured.  

Varric smiled, “Inquisitor, meet Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall.”

The women bowed.

They spoke for a good amount of time.  Varric and Hawke had done battle with Corypheus in the past.  Killed him.  But it seems some sort of magic brought him back.  He was a Darkspawn type of creature and he held some power over the Grey Wardens.  They had disappeared suddenly and Hawke was researching it.  She made contact with a Grey Warden who she would be meeting in Crestwood in a couple of months to gather their information. She welcomed Paya to join her.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

To the Fallow Mire, Paya would bring Sera, Dorian, the Iron Bull, and Khash.  After that, she would go with Khash and Bull to meet with Alexander, Blackwall, and Cole on the Storm  Coast-- that was the plan, anyway.

They stopped in Redcliffe for the night on the way there.  It hadn’t begun, but they had seen storm clouds rolling in a few hours before their arrival.  The Gull and Lantern glowed with life; the party separated to enjoy it how they saw fit.  One of Leliana’s agents had arrangements made for the Inquisitor ahead of time, so they were expected.  Paya and Sera were put to a room and then Khash, the Iron Bull, and Dorian to the other.

Paya decided to retreat to her room, feeling very seen the moment they had stepped into the tavern.  

Khash pulled up a seat next to Bull at the bar.  Strange opposites, they were.  Khash was tall for an elf.  Taller than some humans.  But the Iron Bull made him small in comparison.  Bull ordered their drinks.  Sera was talking with some others in the tavern.  Khash assumed they were “friends.”  Dorian approached and sat on Khash’s side opposite of Bull.

“So, stop me if you’ve heard this one,” Bull started, “A Qunari, a Dalish elf, and a Vint walk into a bar…”  Dorian groaned his annoyance, to which Bull laughed and ordered a drink for Dorian to enjoy as well. 

“So it seems we’ll be roommates tonight…?”  Khash asked.

“That’s right,” Dorian welcomed his drink as the bartender sat it in front of him, “I think whoever decided that has quite the sense of humor.” 

Bull agreed, “Should be interesting.”

The men sat and drank.  Sera left her “friends” and joined Paya upstairs.  After they were done drinking, they chatted for a while longer, and then when they were done sitting they also left for their room.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

It was still raining when they arrived in the Mire.  It was unusually warm for as far south as they were, in this time of year, but still cold.   Paya theorized that the Breach had something to do with it but couldn’t be sure.

When they reached the Inquisition’s base camp, Harding greeted them, debriefed them, and sent them on their way.

A group of Avvar had kidnapped several Inquisition soldiers.  Chances were they were still alive.  But the leader of this group, known as the Hand of Korth, wanted to face off against the Herald of Andraste as some sort of feat of strength.  On top of that situation, the dead had been rising from the surrounding bog for quite some time.  There was no clear way to stop it as of the moment, but they were warned that disturbing the bodies of water attracted the dead’s attention.  They would try their best but there were times it was unavoidable.

There was no time to waste so they set off.

The dead were easy to deal with.  They were frail, their decay hastened by the wet land they’d been laying in for Maker knows.  The air was sticky and a fog settled above the shallow pools of water across the mire.  There were signs of a long destroyed settlement.  A plague wiped the population out but there was something else amiss. Something darker occurred here.

There were beacons along the path all the way toward the keep the Hand of Korth was locked up in.  Lit with veilfires, the party found that it drew the dead out from their hiding places.  It made it easier to deal with them.  Made the waters that much safer.

There were terror demons amongst the dead that were drawn to the veilfire beacons.  Tall, spindly, creatures with elongated limbs and gaping maws that stretched into their chests.   Deep green exoskeletons provided some amount of protection from attacks but the demons always succumbed to them.

They paused after their second beacon to retrieve loot around it.  The rain hadn’t lifted once since they had arrived and the cloaks they had brought to stave it off were slowly being soaked through.  Paya stood shivering between the Iron Bull and Dorian, absorbing Bull’s body heat while watching Khash and Sera pick useful items off of corpses and open containers. Later, they located a cave that the Inquisition had scouted out before. They made camp here, peeled off their cloaks, and let them dry by the fire while they too dried off.  

Khash pointed out a rift in the distance that they agreed to grab on their way to the keep.

Paya sat with Dorian, who was taking up Solas’s usual position of studying the mark.  The Anchor.  He, of course, had a lot less knowledge and was studying purely to sate his curiosity.  There was no glow at the moment, and so it appeared like a scar across her palm.

“It almost looks like a lyrium vein,” Dorian stated.  He had soft hands. Well-manicured and diligently cared for.  He had some sort of fragrance on; vanilla and something smoky, though that might have been the fire.

“I never thought of that but I think you’re right.  Might be worth looking into.” 

Sera plopped down next to them.  She was curious about the mark too but wouldn’t dare put her hands so close to it.  “Does it hurt?”

“Only sometimes,” Paya said.  “Usually when an outside force is pulling at it.  It aches when I’m near rifts but it’s dull enough that I don’t notice it sometimes.”

Sera reached into her satchel and pulled out a clump of elfroot leaves and then crushed one into Paya’s palm with her thumb.  “Helps the aches, yeah?”

Paya smiled softly.  The crushed elfroot left a cooling sensation on her palm. “Thank you, Sera.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The rift Khash had spotted was closed but not sealed.  A towering Avvar with a large hammer over his shoulder stood nearby, watching it.  Paya’s hand sparked as they approached.

“Are you with the Avvar here?” Paya walked right up to him.

He looked at her, registering her presence and then back to the rift, “I am.  You may call me Skywatcher”

Paya followed his gaze,  “I can take care of this.”

He simply nodded and took a step back.

Paya opened the rift, and instead of the typical activity of the rifts, corpses fell out rather than the usual demon.  There was a terror demon as a sort of ring leader.  The Avvar joined the fight and with him, the demons were cleared and Paya was able to seal the breach shortly after.

Skywatcher hefted his hammer back onto his shoulder.  “So you are the Herald of Andraste,” he said, “My kin wish you dead, lowlander, but that is not my job.  You have no fear from me.”

“Then what is your purpose here?”

“I’m called to take care of the dead.  It is the Chief’s son who wants to fight you.  I do not intend to pick up a blade for a whelp’s trophy hunt.”

“Did you see what happened with the Inquisition soldiers that were kidnapped?  Were they harmed?”

“A few were injured in the skirmish, but they were alive.  Last I saw them.  Someone trained them well.  They killed more of us than I thought they would.”

Paya bowed respectfully toward him.  “Thank you, Skywatcher.”

“Watch the water,” he said.  And the party took off again while the Avvar continued on.

One last beacon and then they were on the straight shot toward Hargrave Keep, where the Avvar were keeping the Inquisition’s people.  There was a horde of undead directly in front of it though.

Fireballs, walls of ice, electrical arcs, arrows, blades.  They cut through the dead but more kept coming.  “Get into the keep!”  Paya called. 

They blew past the corpses ahead of them and once inside, Khash dashed up a flight of stairs to where a lever was located.  Quickly moving it, the gates of the keep fell, keeping the dead from following.  They caught their breath and continued deeper into the keep, to find the Avvar and their soldiers.

The Hand of Korth stood at the back of a dilapidated chamber, with four other Avvar standing with him.  When he spotted the Herald, he made a big show of throwing his hammer around to show how powerful he was as he challenged her.

Battle ensued.  Bull took the front.  With the smaller Avvar’s attention drawn to him, Paya focused on Korth.  The others spread amongst the other Avvar, helping Bull.

Korth moved slowly, and Paya was able to maneuver her way out of most of his swings.  He did manage to smack her good in her ribs.  She threw a wall of ice between him and herself to duck away and began generating energy between her palms.  She waited for him to smash the wall down.

As he did, he was hit with a barrage of fire magic, singeing his clothing and skin.  Like a raging bull, he charged at her.  Paya kicked up her staff and directed the staff blade toward him.  Korth met it, and it sank into the leather of his armor.  Paya then jolted the staff with electricity, using the blade as a conductor.

The Hand of Korth was felled.  The other Avvar were dispatched or ran when their leader fell.

Sera ran toward a door that was hidden off to the side of the room and began working at its lock.  As the others approached, voices called out to them for aid.  

The soldiers inside had minor injuries at worst and were unscathed otherwise. “Thank the Maker!”

Each took their turns individually thanking Sera for opening the door and the Inquisitor for vanquishing their captor.  Then they were guided through the bogs back to the Inquisition’s camp.

Goodbyes were said, and then Dorian and Sera left with the rescued Inquisition soldiers to return to Skyhold.

The journey to the Storm Coast would last about a week and a half of travel, most of it alongside Lake Calenhad.  Some Inquisition soldiers journeyed with them, and one decided to offer historical trivia every so often about the lake, about its namesake, and about Ferelden.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t raining on the Storm Coast.  It was plenty wet though, as the sea kicked up on the shores. Alexander, Blackwall, and Cole had arrived before them.  They greeted them and everyone sat down at camp to discuss their plan.

A scout had found a note in regards to the Blades of Hessarian.  There was an amulet that could be crafted and they could approach the leader of the Hessarians to challenge their leader.  Seeing an opportunity to recruit more to their cause, the amulet had been made.  While they were out, Blackwall requested they seek out certain signs of the Grey Wardens presence in the area.  They could determine where they may have disappeared to, or if they left behind any useful materials they could utilize.  A few artifacts were successfully located but any place the Wardens seemed to have camped were long abandoned.

The Hessarian camp was small.  There was a stable and a single building surrounded by a wall made of timber.  As Paya approached the entrance, she showed the warrior on guard the amulet and she let the Herald pass.

The leader of Hessarians was all too eager to fight and it was made clear that Paya could have her warriors with her to back her up.  And they did.  The former leader went down hard. 

When approached by the remaining followers, their services were offered to the Inquisition and they were accepted.  For now, the Inquisition party remained at the Hessarian base camp to relax for a while.  For as wet and salty as the air was, the Storm Coast was quite a lovely site. 

It didn’t take much for the party to realize that most of them weren’t nearly as acquainted as they ought to be, and they sat down for a meal--some sort of stew in a bowl.  Stools and a log were their chairs and there was a small fire between them.

“So.. Tevinter,” Blackwall questioned Alexander.

“Yes, that is where I’m from.  My name is Alexander if you had forgotten.  What is it?”

“You’ve got history with Alexius and Dorian,” Blackwall went on, “I might not have been there when you first reunited but you spend much of your time with him.”

Bull nodded in agreement, “It’s like you’re the new kid so you only hang out with the one person you happen to know.”

“Yes, and I was curious about that,” Blackwall concluded.

Alexander let out a heavy sigh and sat his bowl in his lap.  “Gereon and I were partners, and no I don’t mean romantically,” he gave Blackwall a look, thinking of the conversation back in Herald’s Rest.  “There was an… accident.  We went our separate ways.  I hadn’t spoken to him or Dorian until Redcliffe.  To be honest, I haven’t spoken with Gereon yet.  I don’t think he knows I’m involved.”

“Alexius is in the dungeons below Skyhold now, if you'd like to speak with him,” Paya said.

Alexander nodded, “I think I will.”

“Do not be ashamed.  The research he carried was not with the materials you brought him.  His information was the Elder One’s and yours was the Elves,” Cole uttered.

“I’d appreciate it if you avoided saying that in front of Solas,” Alexander said, “I don’t think he’d be fond of the idea that I ‘abused’ Elvhen magic.”

“Your secret’s safe with us,” Khash, who sat beside Alexander, nodded to him.

They resumed eating.  The rest of their conversations were primarily small talk, or Cole cryptically reading someone’s mind and confusing the lot.  Once the sun fell, they found their resting places.

Chapter Text

Spread out on the table behind him were the thumbnail sketches of his plans, and in chalk, he’d outlined his intended shapes on the wall.  Flat surfaces were easiest to work with, but the curved wall of the rotunda posed an interesting challenge.

He dabbed a carefully measured amount of pigment onto one of his brushes and moved it across the surface.

“What are you up to, Solas?”

Lady Nightingale had appeared, on her way up to the crow’s nest that sat in the topmost level of the rotunda.  She had a few materials tucked under her arm and one of Josephine’s clipboards in her other hand.

“I am recording events,” he stated.

“On the walls?”

“We all have our own methods.”  He didn’t turn to look at her while he spoke, nor did he pause in his actions.  He had to work quickly before the plaster dried.

“I must say, I didn’t take you for an artist.”

“I’m not surprised.  I don’t exactly advertise it.”

“Carry on,” she finished, exiting into the stairwell to her nest.

Master Tethras entered an hour later and simply watched him work.  He could hear the dwarf writing and imagined how he would be described in whatever Tales were told of the Inquisition in the future.

Neither spoke for several more hours, just worked on their crafts.

Once he concluded the day’s work on the fresco, he brushed drying flakes of plaster off of his shirt and moved back over to his table.  

“I heard Blackwall taught you how to play Diamondback.  And that now he can’t win against you.”

“Is that your way of asking me for a game, Master Tethras?”

Varric grinned at him.

He smirked back.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Josephine and Vivienne took it upon themselves to train Paya on proper ballroom etiquette.  They were around a month away from the ball at the Winter Palace and Paya was inexperienced with the Game.  There were a few natural instincts but it was rough around the edges.

Someone had volunteered Dorian to help with the dancing instruction.  Out of the others amongst her friends, he was the most experienced in this matter.  Orlesian Ballroom dancing was rather simple.  1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3 .  Carefully placed steps designed for dancing around a hoop skirt.  Sometimes Alexander would step in for Dorian.  They were the same height but Alexander was a bit clunkier with his movements than Dorian.  Alexander was a scholar, where Dorian was much more of a social butterfly.

And then there were the fittings.  The Inquisition decided on a uniform design with input from both Vivienne and Dorian.  A royal blue military-style suit with a cream-colored sash.  And a pin of the Inquisition’s emblem stuck to the lapel.  It was handsome and evoked regality.

All the while, Paya delegated tasks for the Inquisition’s agents in the war room.  Soldiers marching as a show of force where needed, a knife in the dark, a lot of political leveraging.  As she left one of these meetings, she was stopped by Mother Giselle.

She had a message from Dorian’s family.  A meeting with a retainer was to be held in Redcliffe. The message and Giselle requested Paya keep the meeting secret and just surprise him with it, but Paya immediately made her way up to where she typically found Dorian.  She gave him the letter from Halward, his father.

Alexander appeared from below while Dorian was reading through the letter.  “‘I know my son?”  Dorian spoke incredulously, “What my father knows of me would barely fill a thimble!  This is so typical .”  His agitation surfaced vividly, “I’m willing to bet this ‘retainer’ is a henchman, hired to knock me on the head and drag me back to Tevinter!”

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” Paya responded.

“What’s going on here?” Alexander asked.  He had just come from the prisons, finished his conversation with Gereon Alexius.

Dorian explained the letter with venom in his voice.  He looked toward Paya, “Let’s go.  Let’s meet this so-called ‘Family Retainer.’  If it’s a trap, we escape and kill everyone,” he started gathering the few things he had around him.  “You’re pretty good at that.  And if it’s not a trap, I send the man back to my father and tell him that he can stick his alarm in his ‘wits end.’”

“I’ll come too,” Alexander insisted.

“The more the merrier!”  Dorian did not sound merry.  He brushed past both of them and descended to Solas’s room in the rotunda, “I wonder how much my father paid this man to wait around just in case I showed?”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Paya brought Varric and Cassandra along to the Hinterlands but once they hit Redcliffe, she asked them to stay at camp.  

The three mages made their way to the Gull and Lantern, where the retainer would be meeting them.  The interior was empty.  No patrons, no barkeep, no servants.  Most of the lights were out aside from a few candles on a few tables and a torch by the entrance.

“Dorian,” a voice came from the stairway that led to the few rooms above the tavern.   It was an older male voice with a Tevinter accent.

Dorian turned toward the man and his face hardened into a scowl.  “Father.  The whole story about the family retainer was just.. What?  A smokescreen?”

“Then you were told.”  The man, Halward Pavus, folded his hands in front of him and stepped further into the light of the entryway.  “I apologize for the deception, Inquisitor.  I never intended for you to be involved.”

Dorian approached his father, “Of course not.  Magister Pavus couldn’t come to Skyhold and be seen with the dread Inquisitor .  What would the people think?”  his tone was taunting, and it took him a great deal of effort not to raise his volume.  “What is this exactly, father?  Ambush?  Kidnapping?  Warm family reunion?”

Halward sighed, “This is how it has always been.”

“You lied to get him here.”  Alexander began to step forward, but Paya gently gripped his sleeve and he stood down.

Paya nodded to agree with Alexander.  “If Dorian is furious with you he has the right to be.”

Dorian looked toward Paya out of the corner of his eye.  “You don’t know the half of it!”  And then he turned toward her, “But maybe you should.”

“Dorian, there’s no need to--”

Dorian interrupted his father.  A snide grin formed on his face.  “I prefer the company of men.  My father disapproves.”

“This display is uncalled for,” Halward argued.

Dorian turned back to his father.  The false smile was gone and replaced with a sneer, “No, it is called for.  You called for it by luring me here!”

“That’s not what I wanted!”

“I’ve never been what you wanted, Father.  Or have you forgotten?”

“I think we’re done here,” Alexander said.

“I agree, let’s go,” Dorian uttered quickly, “There's nothing more to be gained here.”

Halward took another step forward.  “Dorian, please,” he begged, “If you’ll only listen to me!”

“Why?”  Dorian turned back around and got in his father’s face, “So you can spout more convenient lies?”  He looked at both Paya and Alexander.  “ He ,” back into Halward’s face, “taught me to hate blood magic!  ‘The resort of the weak mind.’  Those are his words!”  He began to pace, all eyes on him. “But what was the first thing you did when your precious heir refused to play pretend for the rest of his life?”  He stopped his pacing and stared directly at his father, “You tried to change me!” his voice broke then, but he did not cry.

“I only wanted what was best for you. ”

“You wanted the best for your fucking legacy!  Anything for that!”

Dorian moved over to the bar, leaning on it to regain his composure.  Alexander stepped toward him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“A moment please?”  Paya asked Halward, who went back to the stairwell.  She moved to the side of Dorian opposite Alexander and took his hand.  “You can either leave things like this or talk things through with him.  The choice is yours…”  she paused to collect her words, “But if you don’t talk with him now you may never get the chance again.  You don’t have to forgive him but you can at least get something like closure.”

He watched her face for a while and then rose, moving immediately toward Halward. “Tell me why you came?”

“If I knew I would drive you to the Inquisition--”

“ You didn’t ,” Dorian’s voice was pleading, “I joined the Inquisition because it’s the right thing to do.  Once I had a father who would have known that...”

Halward lowered his head and closed his eyes.  “Once…”

Dorian was starting to turn to leave but paused to look at him.

“Once, I had a son who trusted me.  A trust I betrayed.  I only wanted to talk to him. To hear his voice again.  To ask him to...forgive me.”

Dorian looked surprised and then stepped back toward him.

Paya gently took a hold of Alexander’s sleeve and guided him out of the tavern.  They sat outside for around an hour before Dorian reemerged.  He seemed tired.  His face was dry but his eyes were still red from the threat of tears.  They quietly returned to camp as a trio.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“I’m sorry you had to see all of that,” Dorian said, a pitiful little laugh at the top of it.

Marcellus shook his head, “I volunteered to come.  And I’m glad you went.”

They were back at Skyhold now, in the nook Dorian preferred to occupy during his free time.  Paya had already come to check on him and assured all things were still good between them.  They even confirmed with each other their friendship.

“As Paya said, you’re brave for what you’ve done.”

Dorian’s eyes creased a bit as a smile formed.  “Promise me something, Alexander.”

“Promise what, Dorian?”

“Once we get you back home, to the time you’re supposed to be in, be sure not to tell me anything of what’s happened.”

“Why not?” 

Dorian moved toward the window of the nook.  He could just see the stables from it.  Khash, in the fancy tunic Vivienne had tailored for him, was tending to one of the harts.  He looked inside the barn beside the stable every so often to talk to someone.  Probably Blackwall.

“Because, knowing myself, I’d leave home sooner than I have already.  Do something silly that will get me killed before I’m able to come and help the Inquisitor myself,” he smirked over at him, “You probably won’t be able to stop the Breach itself from occurring so Paya will still need all the help she can get.  Maybe you can find your way back here and give us your profound knowledge of the future then. ”

Marcellus nodded, “I’ll run into you on the way to Redcliffe, maybe?”

“I wish I could say I’ll hold you to that but I won’t have experienced this yet.” Dorian’s smile fully returned, “Now, if you’d join me, I have some drinking to do.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Solas, for once, wasn’t in the rotunda.  Paya had come to speak with him but he seemed to have gone elsewhere.  She was leaning against his desk now, studying his paintings.  She hadn’t seen him working on them.  It seemed he chose only when she was not in Skyhold to do so.  This was a style of fresco she’d only seen in the oldest Elvhen ruins she’d explored with Khash before either of them even had their Vallaslin.

“I see you’ve returned.”

Paya turned her head toward him and she smiled. “Yes, I have.”  He had a spiral sketchbook tucked under his arm and he had charcoal smudged on his face.  

He stood beside her and looked up at where she had been studying the frescoes.  He sat his sketchbook on the desk and grabbed a rag off of it, wiping the charcoal from his face.

“Where were you?” she asked.

“There is an exquisite view of the valley from the battlements.”

“You’re quite the artist, Solas.”

“As they say, a picture is worth a thousand words.”

“I think I might agree there.”

Solas moved around toward a gold-colored loveseat that was pushed against one of the walls.  He gestured for Paya to sit beside him.  She did.  They sat cross-legged, facing each other.  

He held his hand out to her and she gave him the one with the Anchor.  On days where the Anchor ached the most, she’d go to him for aid.  He was the most familiar with it and seemed to know how to tame it.

“We have not spoken much since then,”  Solas said.

“Since the..” Paya trailed off.

“Yes.. the kiss.”  His palm glowed blue.  Healing magic.  “I’ve spent quite some time thinking about it.”

“Me too.”

Solas smelled like pine and fresh soil.

“We aren’t in the Fade this time, are we?”

“No, we are not..”

Paya leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.  

“There could be a great deal of risk to us starting a relationship,” Solas said softly.

“A risk I’m willing to take.”

He reached up and gently tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.  She was wearing it down today and it sat in waves around her face.

“Do you want this?” she asked, searching his eyes in earnest.

Both of his hands came to her cheeks.  “I do…”  and he leaned into the kiss.  

This was unlike the Fade.  It was slow and measured.  Delicately savored.  They melted into each other, settling in the places they were meant to be.

Whoooo! A whistle.

They startled off of each other and turned toward Dorian and Alexander, who stood at the bottom of the stairs that led to the library.  “My, my, Inquisitor.  How scandalous!”  Dorian was back to his usual demeanor.  “We’re on our way to Herald’s Rest.  Come join us!”

Paya began giggling, “I did say I’d join you for that, didn’t I?”  She stood, taking Solas’s hand and pulling him up with her.  “You’ll join us too, won’t you?”

The bald elf smiled, “I suppose.”

Chapter Text

All of Paya’s friends in the Inquisition were invited to attend the ball at the Winter Palace, but only a handful were part of her personal entourage:  Solas, posing as her manservant; Varric, whose main purpose would be more prevalent behind the scenes; and Cassandra, their muscle for the evening.  They were all in the same carriage together, the men sitting across from the women.  They were all rather dashing in their uniforms.  

Paya’s hair was tucked neatly out of her face into a tight bun at the back of her head, as opposed to her usually messy styling of it.  Delicate makeup was painted around her eyes and her lips were a warm violet red.  Someone had done the grace of putting a light contour on Solas, and Cassandra’s eyes were ever stunning with a smoked-out liner and silvery shadow.  Varric himself was also nicely cleaned up but was spared the makeup treatment.

“Nervous, Daffodil?”  Varric asked.  

“Exponentially,” she gave a shaky little laugh.

“There is nothing to fear.  You have been well trained by Josephine and Vivienne,” Cassandra reassured.

Solas reached across and took her hand.  “The most important part of tonight will be what people don’t see.”

Paya nodded to him and gave his hand a squeeze, turning to look out the window.  

The Winter Palace was a sparkling pale blue structure with tall white columns and golden detailing.  It was perfectly symmetrical and called upon old Elvhen architecture to inspire its design.  Solas stepped out of the carriage first and helped each passenger step out.  He took on the full persona of the Inquisitor’s manservant and kept to her side.

The front courtyard had a few dignitaries standing and chatting about, and the pair found themselves wandering toward a fountain in the center.  Paya stood facing the fountain and closed her eyes.  She took a moment to shut out the sounds around them and just listened to the rushing white noise of the fountain water.

Varric and Cassandra walked by, and Varric pinched the sleeve of her arm to draw her attention.  “We’ll be in the vestibule once you’re ready to join, Daffodil” he whispered.  

She gave him a nod and relaxed.  She looked toward Solas and smiled, “Let’s walk for a bit, yes?”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Lady Inquisitor Lavellan.  Vanquisher of the rebel mages.  Crusher of the vile apostates of the mage underground!  Champion of the blessed Andraste Herself!

“Khash Lavellan, blood sibling to the Herald, representative of the Dalish Clan Lavellan.

Paya wondered how the herald of the ball got his voice to echo so far in such a large ballroom.

“Madame Vivienne, First Enchanter of the Circle of Magi, Enchanter of the Imperial Court, Mistress of the Duke of Ghislain. 

“The Iron Bull, leader of the famed mercenary company Bull’s Chargers. As the name might imply.

Only Paya and her advisors stood on the ballroom floor.  Her other guests were being introduced as they entered the room, however.  

“Warden Blackwall of Val Chevin, constable of the Grey. Bearer of the Silverite Wings of Valor.

“Her Ladyship Mai Bhalsych of Korse.”  Sera cackled somewhere in the background.

She followed behind the Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons, who was cousin to the Empress and responsible for the Inquisitions’ invitation to the Ball.  

“Lord Alexander Marcellus, Somniari scholar, and historian.  Son of Magister Gaius Marcellus of Minrathous.”  

“Lord Dorian Pavus, member of the Circle of Vyrantium. Son of Lord Magister Halward Pavus of Asariel.

Gaspard was responsible for a civil war, the ‘War of the Lions,’ that had started within the past year.  He did not agree with how Celene was ruling and wanted her throne.  He was one of the Inquisition’s suspects for the potential assassination.

“Renowned author Varric Tethras. Head of noble House Tethras, deshyr of Kirkwall to the Dwarven Merchants Guild.”  

“The Lady Inquisitor’s elven serving-man, Solas.”  

“Seeker Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena–”

Cassandra cut the herald off, “Get on with it!”

“…Pentaghast. Fourteenth cousin to the King of Nevarra, nine times removed. Hero of Orlais, Right Hand of the Divine.”

Their other suspect was the elven ambassador of the night, a woman named Briala.  She had a vast elven spy network under her wings and was rumored to be a former lover of the empress.  

“Ser Cullen Stanton Rutherford of Honnleath. Commander of the forces of the Inquisition. Former Knight-Commander of Kirkwall.  

“Lady Leliana, Nightingale of the Imperial Court. Veteran of the Fifth Blight.  Seneschal of the Inquisition and Left Hand of the Divine. 

“And Lady Josephine Cherette Montilyet of Antiva City, Ambassador of the Inquisition.”

The three advisors stood behind Paya as she came to stand beside Gaspard.  Empress Celene herself greeted Paya. 

“Lady Inquisitor, we welcome you to the Winter Palace,” Celene spoke.  She wore an elegant yet simple blue dress and a golden mask that covered her brows but left her mouth bare.  A pair of golden wings were attached to her back, extending just past her shoulders and behind her head.  “Allow us to present our cousin, the Grand Duchess of Lydes, without whom this gathering would never have been possible.”

“What an unexpected pleasure.  I was not aware the Inquisitor would be part of our festivities,” the Grand Duchess said, she grinned toward Paya as she walked away, “We will certainly speak later, Inquisitor.”  As the Duchess left, the advisors, too, left the ballroom floor.

Celene continued to address Paya, “Your arrival is like a cool wind on a summer’s day.”

Paya bowed from her waist, “Let us hope the breeze is not the herald of an oncoming storm.”

“Even the wisest mistake fair winds for foul.  We are at the mercy of the skies, Inquisitor Lavellan.  How do you find Halamshiral?”

Paya lifted herself from the bow.  “There is nothing I can say that could do Halamshiral’s beauty justice.”

“Your modesty does you credit -- and speaks well for the Inquisition.  Feel free to enjoy the pleasures of the ballroom, Inquisitor.  We look forward to watching you dance.”

Paya joined Leliana at the side of the ballroom.  They discussed information gathered up until that point, in the vestibule and outside.  Gaspard pointed his fingers at Briala while Leliana believed that the dagger would be in much closer proximity to the Empress.  She spoke of the Empress’s occult advisor.  An apostate.  One Leliana knew from the past.  Both Briala and this apostate, as leads, guided them to search the guest wing first.  However, not before Paya mingled and did her dues making allies and friends.  She found Vivienne first, who offered some advice on dealing with the nobilities, and then Sera, who suggested the locations of a few Red Jenny stashes on the premises.  

Paya exited the ballroom and immediately found Khash.  He had all of his hair tied into a bun at the top of his head, though a single strand had fallen out near his cheek.  His shoulders were drawn back and he kept his back straight as a board.

“How are you doing, Khash?”  Paya asked.

Her sibling visibly relaxed.  “I keep getting dirty looks from everyone.  I lost track of Bull and Dorian when we were called to the ballroom.”

“Well, I need to locate everyone anyway.  Join me?”

Cassandra was also in the vestibule.  She did not want to be there and she didn’t bother hiding it.  She hadn’t seen anything yet.  Paya told her to keep an eye out and continued onward.

A portion of the guest wing was open to the attendees.  There was a room with some statuary and plaques across the walls as well as a hearth on a lower level.  Blackwall stood near this hearth.  He hadn’t heard anything yet other than some mumblings from the servants that passed through the upper level of the room.

The next room was a hallway leading to one of the gardens and a couple of trophy rooms.  Solas was there, leaning on a big marble statue, pushed against the wall, that had a base almost as tall as Paya.  He had donned a silly-looking hat.  It had a nose guard, sideburn-looking guards on either side of his face, and a big point at the top.

“What’s that on your head, hahren ?” Khash teased.

“It helps with the ‘serving man’ persona, da’len ,” Solas explained.  He smiled at Paya, “My one disappointment is that I could not blend in further.”

“Josephine insisted on the uniforms,” she responded apologetically.

“I more than understand.”

“How are you doing aside from that?  Heard anything?”

“Oh I am quite enjoying myself,” he took Paya’s gloved hand and kissed her knuckles, “When we have a moment of privacy I might ask for a dance.”

Paya’s cheeks turned pink.  Khash made a gagging face.

“I didn’t expect you to be so comfortable here,” Paya stammered through her words.

Solas released her hand and leaned back onto his statue.  “I have seen countless such displays in my journeys in the Fade.  The powerful have always been the same.  Only costumes change.”

“You didn’t answer the question about whether you’ve seen anything yet,” Khash butted in.

“Nothing of note.  Only idle gossip that would do no aid to us.  You should ask around the elven servants.  They’ll probably offer some information to you.”

“Thank you, Solas,” Paya said, “I must get going now.”

He leaned off of his column and gave a humble bow, “Hunt well.”

As they walked away, Khash found a cylindrical seal and handed it to Paya.  It contained a note with information passed back and forth between Briala and her agents.

Next, they found the Iron Bull who was parked beside the entrance to the gardens.  The formal uniform looked well-fitted to him but terribly out of place on his being. 

“There you are, Khash.  I was wondering where you got off to,” he gave Khash a big toothy grin.

“Where’d Dorian get off to?”

“He’s in the garden with Marcellus.”

“Have you seen anything?”

 “They’ve got these candied nuts with some kind of spice on them.  It’s sweet until you swallow, and then, bam , hot!”  he explained, “But nothing you would get any use out of.”

“Thanks.  I’m going to go touch base with Dorian and Alexander,” Paya replied, “Khash are you hanging out here?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright.  I’ll see you later.”

Dorian and Alexander were talking amongst themselves.  Most Orlesian nobles were making a wide berth around the pair.

“How are you two doing?” Paya asked.

“This isn’t exactly my scene but people aren’t bothering us so it’s alright,” Alexander replied.

“This is my scene,” Dorian said, “I half expect my mother to materialize from the crowd and criticize my manners.”

“I’m glad you two could come.”

“It’s an honor, Paya,” Alexander gave a slight bow.

Like all the others, neither had heard anything yet.

Varric was in a lower part of the gardens, being hounded by Dowagers.  It seemed his serials were quite popular in Orlais.  She let him handle them and continued onward.

Paya did some poking around in the garden.  She found a way to climb up a lattice to a level that would lead to the library and Paya took the chance to gather a few bits of evidence about their suspects.  There was a letter addressed to a “Lady M” penned by Celene in a room that sang to Leliana’s comments of Celene’s fascination in the occult.  Additionally, on this level, she found a letter between Celene and Gaspard discussing a weapon of Briala’s that could cause some massive damage.  She found a secret study as well, that had a text on the lineage of previous emperors.  

Once satisfied with her search, Paya found an entrance into the Grand Library.  The library was an elevated room with open walls on either side where you could see rooms below.  Cole was in there, listening off of one of the sides.  It was quieter here than in the other rooms.  But still clearly very noisy for him.

“The faces talk, even when they aren’t moving…” he said absently, “Silk on satin on skin.  Always wanting.  Chaste but chased.  Too many.”

“Are you alright, Cole?”

“They have faces inside their faces, lying with a layer that tells the truth.  I don’t know how to help them…”

Paya gave a squeeze to his arm, bringing him back to his own head.  He looked into her eyes.  “If you need to step out, please do...If this is too much for you.”

“It is alright.  I have felt worse than this.”

Paya nodded.  “Let me know if you learn anything,” she said as she gave his arm another squeeze.

Just then, a bell rang, signaling a return to the ballroom was in order.  She quietly made her way back to the garden and approached the entrance of the garden.  However, she was stopped by three women in matching gowns with Orlesian headgear on their heads and lacy masks over their eyes.  The masks of House Valmont. The public faces of the Empress.

“May we have a word?  It is very important,” one of the women said.

“The Empress has sent us with a message for you!” Another of the women continued.

Paya held her hand on the door.  “What’s the message?”

The first woman giggled, “This is so exciting!”

“Empress Celene is eager to assist the Herald of Andraste in her Holy endeavor,” the second woman replied.

“She will pledge her full support to the Inquisition as soon as the usurper Gaspard is defeated,” the third woman spoke, fiddling with her white-gloved hands.

“How generous of her.”

The first woman, “The empress believes wholeheartedly that the Inquisition is our best hope for peace in these difficult times.”

The second woman, “She looks forward to cementing a formal alliance.”

The third, “As soon as Gaspard is out of the way.”

“But we have taken enough of your time,” the second woman again.

“Please,” back to the first, “Enjoy the masquerade, Inquisitor.”

The women curtsied and left Paya to find her way back to the ballroom.

She moved through the halls -- mostly just servants now.  She stopped a pair of male elves in the servant uniform.  “Excuse me, have you seen anything suspicious tonight?”

“You’d do well to avoid the Servant’s Quarters tonight.  People have disappeared there.”

Paya gave a polite bow, “Thank you,” and left.

As she approached the entrance to the ballroom, something called upon her to stop.  The sound of footsteps descending a set of stairs.  A tall, dark woman with golden eyes.

“Well, well.  What have we here?”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

(decided to add a bit of visual aid for the uniforms.  Paya on the left, Khash on the right.  The art is my own)

Chapter Text

“Well, well.  What have we here?”  The woman spoke. Nearly half of her face was concealed by black bangs that loosely sat on her brow.  The black boots beneath her gown did not match the formal occasion.  “The leader of the new inquisition,” she continued, “Fabled Herald of the Faith.  Delivered from the grasp of the Fade by the hand of Blessed Andraste Herself.”  Her voice dripped in some brand of sarcasm.  “What could bring such an exalted creature here to the Imperial Court, I wonder?  Do even you know?”

“You seem to know a lot about who I am.  Who are you?”

“I am Morrigan.  Some call me advisor to Empress Celene on matters of the Arcane.”  She walked alongside Paya.  She didn’t hold the same grace as others of the court, walking more casually with less thought to how she appeared.  “You have been very busy this evening.  Hunting in every dark corner of the palace.  Perhaps you and I hunt the same… prey?”

They stopped in their walking.  “Perhaps we do,” Paya replied, “Why?”

“I recently located and killed an unwelcome guest in these very halls.  An agent of Tevinter,” Morrigan held a key out to her,  “So I offer you this, Inquisitor.  A key.  Found on the Tevinter’s body.  I cannot say where it leads.  Yet if Celene is in danger, I cannot leave her side long enough to search.  You can.”

Paya studied the key for a moment, then tucked it away into her coat.  “I suppose I can.  Thank you, Lady Morrigan.”

“Proceed with caution, Inquisitor.  Enemies around, and not all of them aligned with Tevinter.  What comes next will be most exciting.”  She gave Paya a slight bow of her head and disappeared into the ballroom.

Paya stood before the entrance of the ballroom and collected her breath.  Her hands absently went to her hair, tucking in flyaways that had become loose in her snooping.  She jumped, as in tandem with the second bell; a hand found itself pressed to the small of her back.  She turned to face Solas.

“I’ve never seen you so on edge before, Vhenan,” he spoke gently.  Quietly.  He hadn’t called her vhenan before and her cheeks flushed once more that night.  “I promise to take you somewhere in nature once we are finished here.  Somewhere with wide-open spaces and no prying eyes.”

She smiled softly to him and he released her.

In the ballroom, a brief dance ensued, while in the wings, Paya relayed information gathered to Leliana and then sought out Gaspard and Briala both to question them.  Both pointed the finger at the other still, even when presented with incriminating information.  The next course of action would be to search the servant’s quarters now.  Paya moved around the perimeter of the ballroom, locating her personal entourage to meet her outside of the servant’s quarters.

Varric had their gear, Leliana having smuggled it in at some point.  The key Morrigan gave Paya opened the door into the quarters and they slipped inside.

The servants here were dead.  All elves.  Briala’s people.

They took their time searching the space before exiting out to a garden.  

Another corpse, in front of a fountain.  Paya knelt down in front of it to observe.  “This isn’t any servant…” she said.

No.  He was wearing the fanciful costume of a noble.

“He is part of the Council of Heralds,” Cassandra noted.  There was a dagger nearby as well, with the Chalons family crest emblemized on its hilt.

“Seems the Duke already has blood on his hands,” Paya lifted back onto her feet.  Up ahead, a woman screamed.

Paya grabbed her staff and ran toward the voice.  Another servant, being chased by a Harlequin, a type of Orlesian assassin.  The elven woman ran straight toward Paya as the Harlequin brought her daggers across the woman’s back.

Paya saw red and threw a blast of ice at the Harlequin, but she had thrown down a smokescreen and vanished.  Paya ran to the servant and cradled her in her lap.  Her hands glowed blue.  But she was no healer, and the woman was already dead.

Cassandra, Varric, and Solas were already at her side when the Venatori appeared.

The three still on their feet fought them off.  Paya laid the woman down gently and rose to join the fray.  She was angry and it fueled her spells.  Fire and ice melted onto the Tevinters as they came at her.  When her mana ran low she kicked up her staff and used it like a spear. 

Once the Venatori were felled, she paused to catch her breath.  Then, without another word, she continued through the gardens.  They still needed their evidence.

Re-entering the building, they found themselves in the grand apartments.  Paya went from room to room, her companions close on her tail, gathering anything deemed useful.  Then there was a vault.  Paya felt around the door, trying to determine how to open it. 

 “Allow me,” Solas interrupted her.  There were slots along either side of the wall, in which Solas placed statuettes formed to resemble halla.  The door came open as soon as he placed the last one and Paya pushed her way in.

“An elven locket in the Empress’s vaults,” Varric spoke coyly, lifting a metal chain from a dresser.  

Solas stepped over and observed the pendant dangling from the chain.  “You have quite the eye to recognize the style of craftsmanship here, Master Tethras” he complimented.  He looked toward Paya, “There may be some truth to those rumors of the Empress and her elven lover.”

Paya took the pendant delicately.  “We could use this…”  

The necklace was pocketed and they continued on.  

After passing into another few rooms, the Harlequin from before appeared and attacked them with another group of Venatori.  Paya went for her head.

After they had good and bloodied their hands, they all stopped to recuperate.  The room they were in had wide-open windows, one of which Paya leaned upon the sill of.  She watched Solas heal a cut on Varric’s arm before he made his way to her side.  He leaned against the sill, beside her, and crossed his arms over his chest.  Varric and Cassandra turned away to give them some privacy.

“Tel’melav’en Ar ithaya hima mar nin, Vhenan.”

“Ar laimem ra asha,” she grieved, leaning into his shoulder.

“Ma telem mirithaya.  Mis telemnar.  Tel tua ebalasha fra mar’lan.”   He gently pulled her hair loose and turned her to fix it, as it had become some mess in the melee.  “As emithemaya serannasem sul min sasha.”

Paya turned toward him as he finished fixing her hair and smiled.  “Ma serannas,” she said.  He returned the smile and pressed a kiss into her forehead.  

And then he suddenly stood at the ready, gripping his staff as another Ventori agent ran into the room.  He was alone.

Before any of them could respond, a dagger went through his neck and Briala stepped into the room.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she taunted, “Shouldn’t you be dancing, Inquisitor?  What will the nobility say?”

Paya rose from the windowsill, “A pleasant surprise seeing you here, Ambassador.”

“Your reputation for getting results is well deserved,” she replied.  She looked around the room and moved toward an exit, toward a balcony.  “You’ve cleared this place out.  It will take a month to get the Tevinter blood off the marble.  I came down to save -- or avenge -- my missing people, but you’ve beaten me to it.”  She leaned back against the balcony banister, watching Paya.  “So, the Council of Herald’s Emissary in the courtyard -- that’s not your work, is it?”

“No.. he was dead when we passed through there.”

Briala nodded, “I’m not surprised.  You may have arrived with the Grand Duke, but you don’t seem to be doing his dirty work.”  She crossed her arms and tipped her head to the side.  “I knew he was smuggling in chevaliers, but killing a council emissary?  Bringing Tevinter assassins into the palace?  Those are desperate acts.  Gaspard must be planning to strike tonight.”

“I don’t think that’s enough to go on quite yet..”

“Don’t take too long deciding others’ guilt.  It may cost you.  Though I believe I misjudged you, Inquisitor,”  Briala leaned off the banister, “You might just be an ally worth having.”  She eyed Solas from the corner of her eye for a moment before refocusing her gaze onto Paya, “What could you do with an army of elven spies at your disposal?  You should think about it.”

“I’ll consider it.”

Solas placed a palm across Paya’s back.  Briala smirked coyly at this.  “I know which way the wind is blowing,” she said, “I’d bet coin that you’ll be part of the peace talks before the night is over.  And if you happen to lean a little bit our way?  It... could prove advantageous to us both,” she approached a broken piece of the balcony’s banister, “Just a thought.”  With those final words she leapt down from the balcony.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Gear had been stashed away and they had returned to the ballroom.  The Grand Duchess, who introduced herself to Paya as Florianne de Chalons, asked Paya to join her for a dance.  She had to carefully consider every word while focusing on making the proper movements of her feet. The dance was an excuse to discuss the Inquisition’s most recent suspicions.

“Have the Dalish gained a sudden passion for politics?” Florianne asked, “What do you know about our civil war?”

“What is it that I ought to know?”  1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3 .  Paya kept a count in her head for each foot placement.  

“My brother and my dear cousin have been at each other’s throats for too long,” Florianne replied, “It took great effort to arrange tonight’s negotiations.  Yet one party would use this occasion for blackest treason.  The security of the empire is at stake.  Neither one of us wishes to see it fall.”

The Duchess’s gown had patterns resembling a moth’s wings and her mask matched that of Celene’s.  When she smiled, the left corner of her mouth sat higher than the right.

The movements of the dance shifted.  1, 2, 3, 1, 2. “Is that what we both want, Lady Florianne?” Paya asked.

“I hope we are of one mind on this,”  Florianne responded.

Paya placed a hand to Florianne’s back, guiding her around the dance floor.  She did not fancy leading nearly as much as Dorian did.  “In times like these, it’s hard to tell friend from foe, is it not, Your Grace?”

“I know you arrived here as a guest of my brother, Gaspard.  And have been everywhere in the palace.”  1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3 .  “You are a curiosity to many, Inquisitor...and a matter of concern to some.”

Paya locked her gaze with Florianne’s.  “Am I the curiosity or the concern to you, Your Grace?”

“A little of both, actually,”  Florianne grinned, “This evening is of great importance, Inquisitor.  I wonder what role you will play in it.  Do you even yet know who is friend and who is foe?  Who in the court can be trusted?”

“My trust is only in the Inquisition.  It’s every woman for herself here in the imperial court...or so I’ve heard.”

  1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3.   “In the Winter Palace, everyone is alone,” Florianne said, “It cannot have escaped your notice that certain parties are engaged in dangerous machinations tonight.”

Paya put on her most coy smile, “I thought ‘dangerous machinations’ were the national sport in Orlais.”

And the dip.  She’d rehearsed the move so many times with Dorian, though they were typically in the reversed position.  The room applauded.

“You have little time,” Florianne said, hushed.  “The attack will come soon.  You must stop Gaspard before he strikes.  In the Royal Wing garden, you will find the captain of my brother’s mercenaries.  He knows all of Gaspard's secrets.”  The women moved to exit the dance floor and bowed to each other in parting.  “I’m sure you can persuade him to be forthcoming.”

“We’ll see what the night has in store… won’t we?”  Paya replied.

Chapter Text

Josephine congratulated Paya on her successful performance with the Grand Duchess.  While the atmosphere of court intrigue was a break from the usual fighting, she was wound uptight.  The dance relieved some of that tension.  She spoke with Gaspard and Briala once more to gauge their responses.  Additionally, she presented Briala and, later, Celene with the elven amulet Varric had found before.

Paya regathered with the rest of the advisors and they deliberated on the information gathered.  Gaspard was currently their lead suspect.  It was suggested that perhaps they just let the assassination happen.  The purpose of saving Celene’s life was to prevent the dark future Paya saw with Dorian.  However, it was determined that the chaos could be prevented with the Inquisition’s backing of Gaspard.  Despite this, Paya had already decided on saving Celene’s life.  Action was better than inaction.

The next course of action was to investigate Gaspard’s office as well as the Royal Wing garden as Florianne had suggested.  There was a way into the office from a trophy room in the guest wing.  With some gentle persuasion, a couple of elven serving women managed to distract the guards long enough to gain access.  A key to the Royal Wing and a letter from Gaspard to an individual called Philippe were found.

Out and in, Paya located Solas, Cassandra, and Varric again so they could venture to the gardens together.  Gear was obtained and they entered the Royal Wing.  It held more Venatori, but they were nothing.  A few notes were picked up here and there but it didn’t add up to much.

Suddenly, there was screaming.  Another woman.  Paya locked eyes with Solas and then ran toward the source. 

She pushed open a door and found another Harlequin slashing at another elven woman.  Paya ran at the Harlequin and pushed her out of a nearby window.  The elven woman had fallen onto the floor to get away from the Harlequin.  She looked up at the Inquisitor, “Thank you!”

 Paya knelt down to help her to her feet.  “Are you hurt?” she asked.

“I am alright…”  she dusted herself off.  “No one’s supposed to be here-- Briala said--” she shook her head, “I shouldn’t have listened to her.”

“Briala sent you here?”

“Not personally.   The ‘Ambassador’ can’t be seen talking to the servants,” the woman explained, “We get coded messages at certain locations.  But the order came from her.  She’s been watching the Grand Duke all night.  No surprise she wanted someone to search his sister’s room.”

Paya looked around the room they were in. It was an extravagant bedchamber.  “This room belongs to Grand Duchess Florianne?”

“It used to.  This had been her private room in Halamshiral since she was a child.  But this part of the palace was damaged, and the royal family moved to the guest wings.”

“It’s very brave of you to come here without any weapons on you,” Paya noted.

The woman shook her head, “That isn’t ‘bravery.’  I blindly followed Briala’s orders into a trap!  I knew her! … Before.  When she was Celene’s pet ,” she said with some venom, “Now she wants to play revolution, but I remember!  She was sleeping with the Empress who purged our alienage!”

“Would you testify to that..?  If I asked?”

“Absolutely.  If the Inquisition would protect me, I’ll tell you everything I know about our… ‘Ambassador.’”

Paya gently took the woman’s hands.  “Find Commander Cullen in the ballroom.  Tell him I sent you.  He’ll keep you safe.”

The woman sighed with relief.  “Thank you… Maker protect you, Inquisitor.”

Paya tailed the woman out of the Royal Wing and then the party continued further in.

As they dashed ahead, a pang hit her marked arm and she held it to her chest absently.  

“Inquisitor?”  Solas called quietly.

“I believe there is a rift nearby,” she replied.

They found a door and felt a breeze coming from beneath it.  Pushing it open, they found a courtyard with construction remnants around.  A closed but unsealed rift floated above the courtyard, pulsing angrily.  Two Orlesian guards stood below it, their arrows trained on the Inquisitor.  There was a man, bound and gagged to a beam across the courtyard.

“It was kind of you to walk into my trap so willingly.  I was so tired of your meddling,” Florianne stood at a balcony over the courtyard, grinning her tipped smirk.  “Corypheus insisted that the Empress die tonight, and I would hate to disappoint him.”

Paya held her staff in front of herself, “You won’t get away with this, Florianne!”

“But I already have !”  Florianne laughed, “In their darkest dreams, no one imagines I would assassinate Celene myself.  All I need is to keep you out of the ballroom long enough to strike!  A pity you’ll miss the rest of the ball, Inquisitor.  They’ll be talking of it for years!”  She disappeared into a doorway behind her.  “Kill her,” she ordered the guards below, “Bring me the marked hand as proof.  It will make a fine gift for the Master.”

Paya dodged away from the arrows as they zipped past her, one snipping some of her hair and the other bouncing off of Cassandra’s shield behind her.  She turned the Anchor toward the rift and opened it.  Demons spilled out.  Deep black shades. 

Battle ensued.  The shades got to the guards before the party did but they were quick to deal with them.  The second wave of demons included a rage demon amongst them.  Paya and Solas both chilled him until his flames were snuffed.   Closing the rift once the battle ended was simple as it always was.

Cassandra unbound the man that was across the courtyard.  “Andraste’s tits,” he swore as soon as his mouth was ungagged, “What was all that?  Were those demons?  There aren’t any more blasted demons coming, right?”  He wasn’t Orlesian.  By the accent, he was Ferelden.  He dusted himself off once fully to his feet.  “I knew Gaspard was a bastard, but I didn’t think he’d feed me to fucking horrors over a damned bill! ”

“What do you know?” Paya asked.

“The Duke wanted to move on the palace tonight.  But he didn’t have enough fancy chevaliers ,” he explained, “So he hired me and my men.  He had to offer us triple our usual pay to come to Orlais.  Stinking poncy cheesemongers. ”

“You could come work for the Inquisition instead,” Paya offered.

“You hiring?” he crossed his arms, “I’m game.  Anything’s better than this bullshit.  Want me to talk to the Empress?  Or the court?  Or sing a blasted song in the chantry?  I’ll do it.”

Paya nodded to her companions, signaling that she intended to run ahead.  They were working against the clock now to stop Florianne.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Thank the Maker you’re back,” Cullen approached Paya as soon as she entered the ballroom.  He walked with her as she made her way through the people.  She hadn’t bothered to remove her gear in the dash to return in time.  “The Empress will begin her speech soon.  What should we do?”

“Wait here.  I’m going to have a chat with the Grand Duchess.”  She moved past Cullen and rushed onto the dance floor just as Florianne and Gaspard reached the end of it, in front of Celene.

She outed Florianne there, relaying her plans for the night to the whole room.   None supported Florianne -- at least publicly, and she was escorted away to be dealt with legally.

“Your Imperial Majesty.  I believe we should speak in private.  Elsewhere.”

Paya met with Briala, Gaspard, and Celene on one of the balconies off of the ballroom.  The door behind them was shut and onlookers were shooed away.

“Your sister attempted regicide in front of the entire court, Gaspard!”  Briala accused.

Gaspard shot back, “You are the spymaster.  If anyone knew this atrocity was coming, it was you.”

She crossed her arms, grinning at him.  “You don’t deny your involvement.”

“I do deny it!  I knew nothing of Florianne’s plans!  But you!  You knew it all and did nothing!”

She scoffed.  “I don’t know which is better:  that you think I’m all-seeing or that you’re trying so hard to play innocent.  And failing.”

“Enough!”  Celene interrupted, “We will not bicker while Tevinter plots against our nation!  For the safety of the empire, I will have answers.”

“I wouldn’t have caught Florianne without Briala’s help,” Paya said.  

“You worked together?” Celene questioned.

“Of course,” Briala said matter-of-factly.

Paya laid out the evidence against Gaspard for Celene.  

“I can scarcely believe you did all this for me…” Celene addressed Briala.

“Celene…” Briala smiled.  She had a longing in her voice.

Gaspard was escorted away to be dealt his sentencing.  Celene thanked the Inquisitor and left with Briala at her side.

Following this conversation, Paya changed back into her formal attire and stood with Celene and Briala before the court.  Celene announced to all in attendance a new age for Orlais, of harmony.  She dubbed Briala Marquise of the Dales.

“This is not just a victory in Halamshiral, or within the empire, or even for elves alone!  This is a triumph for everyone!”  Briala announced.  She brought up the history of the elves and humans banding together to defeat the Imperium in the past. “We can do so much more now.  We are greater than our ancestors ever dreamed!”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Morrigan found Paya where she had ducked away from the party. She was on one of the balconies off of the ballroom.  

“The Orlesian nobility make drunken toasts to your victory, and yet you are not present to hear them?”  She paused beside Paya, “Do you tire so quickly of their congratulations, Inquisitor?  ‘Tis most fickle, after all your efforts on their behalf.”

Paya rubbed her arms and looked out over the horizon.  “I just needed some air...”

“I had no wish to interrupt your breathing.  Only to bring news.”  Paya looked toward the woman, studying her face.  She had a few moles dotting her otherwise perfect complexion.  She had on perfume that smelled of lavender and honey.  Morrigan continued, “By Imperial decree, I have been named liaison to the Inquisition.  Celene wishes to offer you any and all aid--including mine.  Congratulations.”  Sarcasm was the language of this woman.

“Welcome aboard, Lady Morrigan,” Paya gave the best smile she could.

Morrigan tilted her head pleasantly, “A most gracious response.  I shall meet you at Skyhold.”

She left Paya on the balcony, giving her the space to breathe.  

Paya leaned against the railing of the balcony and resumed watching the horizon.  She didn’t see Morrigan maneuvering around Solas as she left and he came to join her.  He watched her quietly for a moment, studying the hairs that had fallen from their neat positions once again.  He studied the curve of her back as she leaned forward to be closer to the air.  There was no jumping this time, however, when his hand came pressed against the small of her back.

She silently leaned into him as he joined her to lean on the banister.  Quietly, they watched the sky together.

“Have you ever studied the constellations?” he asked.

“Not formally,” she replied, “The extent is watching the stars and connecting the dots myself.”

He gestured toward the arrangements.  “That is ‘the Maiden.’  Bellitanus.   Symbolic of beauty.  And that, Silentir.   ‘Silence.’  Many scholars associate it with your goddess, Mythal.”  He went on for many minutes, pointing out constellations and explaining their meanings.  Music in the ballroom behind them swelled and sighed as if dancing along to his voice.

There was a lull when he paused to recall a constellation he had not yet pointed out to her.  She turned his head and planted a kiss on his nose.  He returned it with a kiss that filled her chest with warmth.  She pulled the silly hat off his head and sat it on the banister.  He chuckled and held her close, giving soft kisses to her head.  The music swelled again, an encore was called.

“Come.  Before the band stops playing,” he held the excitement of a boy.  He was almost bouncing.   “Dance with me!”  he bowed before her, offering his hand to her.

She took it and he pulled her close.  She dropped all muscle memory of traditional Orlesian ballroom dance and followed Solas’s lead.  It felt formal but held none of the strings attached to Orlesian nobility.  Back and forth, they stepped.  He spun her, dipped her.  All the romantic movements told in picture books and novellas.  She was captivated by him.  

In that moment, just the two of them existed; dancing on a balcony in Halamshiral.

Chapter Text

With the ball over and done with, half of the Inquisition returned to Skyhold while the other half decided to enjoy one last day in Halamshiral.  Solas had made a promise to Paya and he intended to see it through.  They sat on a blanket, shaded by a few tightly grown trees.  There was a small brook not far from them and its running water created a gentle white noise.  Before them were fields of green with speckles of yellow and white flowers every so often.  He dressed differently today -- not in his typical tunic and scrappy pants.  Today he donned a forest green shirt that hugged his shoulders and loosely fitting black pants that were cinched at the knees, tucked into elven-style boots with open toes.  The jawbone necklace he always wore was ever-present.  He smelled of soil and pine trees.

Solas had both of her hands, massaging his thumbs into the palms.  Her eyes were stuck on that necklace.  He always wore it.  She’d never really place much thought into its existence but now it captivated her.  Leather straps were wrapped securely around it then hung loosely around his neck.  When standing, the bone sat somewhere beneath his ribs.

“May I ask the meaning behind your necklace?” Paya asked.

“You may.”  He glanced down at the thing, lifting it slightly as if he wasn’t sure what she meant.  “It was a gift,” he stated simply.

“From whom?”

His gray eyes grew contemplative.  Then sad.  “Someone who has passed.  It is an old memory.”

“I’m so sorry,” Paya said softly.

He tucked her hair out of her face and kissed her nose.  “You could not have known.  Bones of animals aren’t a typical gift. “  

Her hair was down today, curtains around her shoulders.  They were bare; the plain yellow dress she wore was sleeveless and hugged her neck.  She smelled of daffodils.  There was a pit in her right shoulder, a scar from Haven.  She wasn’t ashamed of the scars, however.  Living in the wilds lent itself to its fair share of bumps and bruises.

“I don’t know much about you… from before,” she said.

“Nor I, you,” his hand moved from her ear, where he had placed her hair.  He brushed his knuckles across her cheek and then dropped his hand to his side.

“You know that I’m Dalish.  What else is there to know, really?” she teased.

“You’ve shown me plenty of times that not all Dalish are of one mind.”  He leaned back against one of the trees.

Paya scooted closer to him and rested her head against his chest.  While she listened to his steady breathing, his rhythmic heartbeat, she fidgeted with the jawbone.  “Khash and I were born in the clan.  Our father was a skilled mage and our mother was a hunter.  When my aptitude for magic showed, my father left.”  Solas’s arm wrapped around her and he rubbed circles into her shoulder blade as he listened. “Other than the Keeper at the time, he was the oldest mage there, and he wasn’t about to let his child be sent away due to cautionary limitations.  Khash was too young to remember him.  When Deshanna became Keeper, I competed with the other mages to become their First.”  

“What of your mother?”

“She’s still in the clan.  She’s taken on the role of hahren now.”

Solas rested his cheek upon her head, “She does not resent the clan for sending your father away?”

“He volunteered,” she replied.  “I get the sense that they discussed it privately before he did.”

Solas moved his hand from her shoulder to her waist, where he lightly tugged her in closer.

“I spent a lot of time exploring ruins,” Paya went on, “For all of the old Tevinter ruins in the Free Marches there are still many Elvhen ones as well.  Somehow untouched by the ancient Imperium.”  She sat up and smiled at him.  “Maybe I’ll take you to walk the Fade there one of these days.”

He smiled back, soft and relaxed.  “I’d like that, Vhenan.”

She settled back into him and studied the shapes of the spare clouds in the sky.  “Your murals in Skyhold look a lot like the paintings I saw there…”

Things faded to the rustling of grass and leaves as a breeze swept through.  Birds chirped not far off.  

“What about you…?”

“Hm?” he sounded as though he’d begun to doze.

“What about when you were a child?” She dropped the jawbone and studied a butterfly that settled on a distant flower.

He took a long moment to think.  “I grew up in a small village” he paused every so often to best orchestrate his sentences, “The village no longer exists, but that happened long after I left.  Both of my parents were mages but my father was quite the Enchanter in his own right.”  She could hear it in his voice and felt the shift in his jaw, a slight smile.  “But my mother was the one who taught me how to Dream …”

“Where are they now?”

“I… they passed.  It was a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry, Solas…”

He pulled her close to kiss her head.  “Do not trouble yourself over that.”

Another pause.

“Would you be willing to teach me?  How to dream?”

He gently took her chin and lifted her face into a soft, chaste kiss.  Still close to her face, he replied, “Perhaps when we’ve finally dealt with Corypheus, Vhenan.  Once a bit of peace is established.”

She smiled, kissed him once more, and they both settled against the tree again.  They lay there for hours.  It was just them, the breeze, and the birdsong.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Special care was made to space out the Inquisition troops that were on their way home now.  Small bands would leave at different times and take different routes.  Despite the success of the ball, they still had enemies and Leliana’s agents predicted that Corypheus may retaliate after his loss with Florianne.  Additionally, there were many who would not appreciate that the Inquisitor’s actions had put an elf in power.

Khash was in the half of the Inquisition that was on its way to Skyhold. He sat upon a towering hart, riding beside Dorian, who was on an elegant black steed, and the Iron Bull, who walked beside them.  They had a handful of soldiers with them who rode a few meters ahead of them.  

“What’s next for the Inquisition,” Dorian asked Khash, “Do you know?”

Khash replied, “Paya is waiting for word from Hawke.  They are planning a rendezvous...somewhere.”

Bull rolled his shoulders loosely. “Can’t wait to hit something again,” he grunted.

Khash hunched forward on the hart, sighing.  “If I never go to an Orlesian ball again, it’ll be too soon.”  Bull laughed, patting the hart’s side.

“Yeah, I don’t think I've ever seen you so wound up!”

Something quirked in Dorian’s brow and he turned his head slightly to glance behind them.

“I had at least three people approach me about my tattoos,” Khash bumped Dorian’s arm with his wrist, drawing his attention back to them.  While there was a smile in his voice, his face said otherwise.

Bull, reaching up to pat Khash’s leg, “Oh no, I was there and I could swear there were at least four. ”

The pair of men laughed.   Khash bent over as if to give Bull a smooch, just as an arrow whizzed past his head.  He slipped the rest of the way, letting the Bull catch him.  Dorian spun around on the horse and shot an arc of electricity in the direction the arrow came from.  Khash dropped from Bull’s arms and ducked behind him, using him as cover to disappear behind.  Bull’s ax was already in hand.  He slapped the ass of the hart, encouraging it to run off.  The soldiers up ahead were alerted by now and sprang into action.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Marcellus recalled that some of the materials he had sourced for the study of time magic came from the ancient Elvhen Halamshiral.  He had done some research prior to the ball and located a ruin that had been discovered only somewhat recently -- at least academically.  Ancient Halamshiral spread out further than the modern Orlesian city, and the ruin was somewhat off the beaten path.  Solas and Paya agreed to help him investigate the location once they were done with their little date.

He set up a small camp not far from the ruin to wait, beneath a tree that provided some nice shade.  The midday sun could damage his materials if shone directly on them.  A table was set, where his research thus far was spread out, and he let his horse drink from a nearby stream. The ruin was called Manaviris , or loosely, “The path of distant pasts”  Of his research materials was an analysis of the murals and what remained of the documents found within the ruin.  The text determined that it may have once upon a time been a sort of laboratory or research facility.  The artifacts deemed of most value were long gone, most likely, but there was always at least one door a little more well hidden than the others.

The horse suddenly whinnied, startled by something.  Marcellus got up quickly to calm the creature and to locate the source of the fear.  A garter snake.  He guided the horse back toward where he’d been skimming his texts and tied its lead to the branch of the tree he sat beneath.

Returning to his table, he found the text on the Manaviris had flipped a few pages ahead of where he had been.  Likely the breeze.

He moved to turn the pages back, but something caught his eye.  Diagrams of a round object.  It looked very familiar but Marcellus couldn’t place it.  The notes surrounding the drawings were in Elvhen, but the attempts to translate within the text were short of successful.  Simply questioning possible translations.  He grabbed his notebook up and quickly sketched out what he saw on the page and copied the Elvhen down.  As soon as it was done, he flipped the research book and the notebook closed.

Solas and Paya were approaching on their own steeds. No longer in their casual daywear, they donned their typical travel gear.

“Ah, there you two are,” he quickly began putting his research texts away, “How was the date?”

The horses were all tied to the branch and given water.

“It was quite pleasant,” Paya replied, all smiles.

“Let’s get started, shall we?”  Marcellus grabbed his satchel of archeological tools, tucking his notebook inside.  

The three marched into the ruin.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Red templars, hm?  I didn’t think they could move so quietly,” Dorian hummed contemptuously.

Dorian flexed his healing muscles on an injury to Bull’s back.  Khash had already received his treatment and was washing blood off his face.  The group ducked off the road, finding a stream.  The remaining soldiers -- one had been killed in the battle -- went on ahead, following the stream.  They would make their way toward an Inquisition camp that was intended to be their break point of the night.  

They were all pretty battered.  Khash had gotten behind the group of attackers but took an elbow to the face that had broken his nose.  Before he could take the owner of said elbow down, he received a good cut across his chest.  Dorian had done what he could but now it was bandaged with a poultice.  

“They probably came after us because I was here,” Khash said.  

Bull leaned forward on the felled log Dorian made him sit upon.  “That sounds right.  Maybe confused you for the boss.  Or they know of the relation”

Khash sat back and felt his nose.  Dorian had set it but it was still puffy and bruised.  “Sorry, you two got caught in that.”

“Oh, not a worry, Khash,” Dorian reassured, “That could have gone a lot worse if it was just you and the soldiers.  Not that I doubt your ability in killing people, but they could have overwhelmed you.”

“Right.  Glad we were here to help,” Bull agreed.

Khash smiled at them.  “Thanks,” he spoke, running his fingers through his hair, “Let’s get some rest, yeah?”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Just inside the ruin was the large statue of a wolf.  The regions of the Dales had many such statues.  Statues of Fen’Harel were often placed outside camps or at entrances to ward off malicious spirits.  This was likely the case here.  Paya brushed her hand across its snout as she passed, admiring both the craftsmanship and the regality the statue held.  Solas took a hold of her free hand and squeezed it gently.

Gaps in the ceiling let light from the outside bleed through, so torches were not yet drawn.  Despite nature’s attempts to reclaim the architecture, there was much seemingly untouched.  Reliefs with remnants of paint still on them.  They seemed primarily to be records of rituals.  Magic in nature.  Solas seemed distracted by the features of a particular figure, tracing along the intricately chiseled brow of an elf utilizing calipers.

“What exactly are we looking for, Alexander?” Paya asked.

Marcellus took inventory of the room.  “If ancient Arlathan was anything like Tevinter, they would store spells in foci.  Or use foci for ritual magic.  Things that you can’t just muster from yourself as you please,” he moved toward a table, left behind some time ago by other researchers.  Some implements were left behind but nothing of use.  “Based on some records, that is very possible.  I believe I’ve seen as much depicted in old murals.”

“How did you get access to old murals?”  Solas asked, his hand leaving the relief, “I’d imagine that Tevinter had destroyed most of the ruins of Elvhenan in their lands.”

“No,” Marcellus replied, “Not before they recorded everything inside, at least.  Though even those records are dated or lost by now.  So what I saw and read were most likely recreations.  It may be highly inaccurate, but I have a hunch that there’s at least some truth.”

“Is this a clue to getting you back to your own time?”  Paya asked.

“Yes.  The name of the ruin refers specifically to time.  Well… the past.  I’m hoping that, maybe, they were researching time itself, to some extent.”

“So why a focus?”  Solas asked.

“Because I want to deconstruct their methods of creating them.  If I can maybe reverse engineer one, I’ll find the key I need.  I believe the focus I used to get here was flawed in some way.”

“You should be very careful,” Solas warned, “Ancient magics are far more potent than the magics of today.”

“I’m well aware,” Marcellus replied.  He felt a tug in his chest at the thought of how he arrived in the year of 9:40 Dragon.  “I won’t try to open any foci if I cannot determine the danger.”

They moved through the ruin for a few hours.  A veilfire torch was located, and it revealed a handful of runes.  One such rune clicked with Marcellus.  He pulled his notebook out from his bag and flipped to the page he had copied down earlier.  

Solas stepped beside him, holding the torch to illuminate the notebook.  “What is that?”

“It was in one of the texts I used to research the location…”  Marcellus followed the lettering of the rune with a finger.  “Solas, you have some knowledge of ancient Elvhen, yes?”

“I do.”

“Could you help me translate this?”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Paya leaned against a wall and watched the men work.  She saw the drawing Alexander had and recognized its similarity to the orb Corypheus held.  Solas’s energy shifted immediately when he saw the drawing in Alexander’s notebook.  His shoulders were drawn slightly back and his face was devoid of emotion.  He translated the rune aloud.  A device used to store magic.  Trying to forcefully access that magic would result in a great magical outburst.

“That sounds a lot like what happened at the Conclave,” Alexander spoke absently.

Solas eyed him cautiously.  “Yes.  Perhaps Corypheus acquired such a device.”

“We need to tell the Inquisition about this.”

“No,” Solas said quickly.  He almost yelled.  Alexander stood silent, surprised at the sudden loss of composure from the typically stoic elf.  Realizing this, Solas gathered himself, “Forgive me.  If we were to expose this to the Inquisition, the blame would be placed upon the elves for what Corypheus has done.”

Alexander looked back toward the rune.  “But if we can seize the device from him we could turn the tides in our favor.”

“Or cause another disaster like the Conclave,” Paya interjected.

Alexander rubbed his face, ”That’s true.  Dammit.”  Paya patted his arm, giving a reassuring smile.

“The information here is still useful,” Solas said, “Getting the object from Corypheus would be ideal.  But it would be difficult if not impossible without first vanquishing him.”

“There are other materials here to utilize too,” Paya said.  “There were more studies performed than just on how to create magical spheres.”

Alexander sighed.  He tucked his notebook away once more and held his hand out to take the veilfire torch from Solas.  “Right.  Let’s gather as much as we can, then.”

Chapter Text

Khash, Bull, and Dorian took longer than expected to travel now.  They were taking unmarked paths and avoiding battle when possible.  They were in one of the final Inquisition camps before trekking into the Frostbacks to get to Skyhold when Paya and her travel companions themselves arrived.

“What happened to you three?” she asked upon seeing them.

They were slowly but gradually recovering and Khash still had remnants of a bruise on his nose.  “We were attacked by Red Templars,” he said, "They tracked us a short distance first then attempted an ambush."

“They failed, of course,” Dorian stated.

Bull added, “We managed to get some information out of one.  There wasn’t much of use.  The Lyrium really messes with their heads.”

“And what has become of him now?” Paya asked.

“I killed him,” Khash responded, “He swore the Elder One would cut you down and then make an example of the Lavellan clan by wiping them out.”

Paya crossed her arms and held her chin to mull his words over.  She’d already been running agents out to where the clan was currently residing near Wycome.  Their association with the “Dread Inquisitor” already meant trouble.

“Good riddance, then,” she finally said.  She then smiled at the men before her.  “I suppose we’ll be traveling together once again.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

They shared a tent that night.  She had long tucked herself into his chest and let the rhythm of his breathing lull her into sleep.  Her hair pooled around her head and tickled his collar where his bed shirt did not cover it.  With her in his arms and safe, he allowed himself to fall into his own sleep.

Dreaming was habitual for him.  It often came without conscious intention.  Being able to relax completely lent itself to this.

The Fade was shaped like Skyhold in this dream.  A figment of Paya lay, still sleeping, in the master bed as he stood beside it.  She was small and the pillows threatened to absorb her.  Her palm, lying face-up beside her head, lacked the glow or even the scar of the anchor.  This was an idealistic space.  If he could just watch her sleep in peace for the entirety of the night, he would.  

Instead, he paced out onto the balcony and watched the skyline of the Frostbacks.  In the Dream, the mountain chill was less biting as he inhaled it and the artificial light of the sun warmed his face.  He still felt drawn to look back inside at the sleeping woman.

“It’s been quite some time since you dreamed of this place in this state,” a voice called from beside him.  A spirit of Wisdom had manifested with a table and chairs.  On the table, some sort of game had been laid out.  It wasn’t quite chess, but something similar played by the Elvhen of Arlathan.  “I almost cannot tell the difference between it as it is now and the way she has arranged it herself.”

“Funny how things like that simply fall into place,” he replied.  He joined her across the table.  He sensed the game upon it was a creation of his subconscious as opposed to Wisdom’s will.  He made the first move.

They exchanged a few movements for a moment in silence.

“I am glad to see you allowing this for yourself,” Wisdom said.  “She appears to be a good influence.”

He smiled, “Or perhaps I’m a poor influence on her.”

“You just may be,” Wisdom teased.

“I fear I’m in love,” he said, only half-joking.  His thumb brushed past his ear.  A remnant, of a remnant, of a time in which he had something to tuck there.  Now it was just a tell.

She smiled warmly at him, “Yes, I believe I agree.”

They moved their pieces.

“What advice do you seek that you called upon me?  I doubt you requested the presence of a being of Wisdom simply to play the role of matchmaker.”

“No,” he chuckled.  “She is unlike any other I’ve known.  She’s wise and good.  She’s…” he trailed away, tugging at his earlobe.

“Real,” Wisdom finished.

He closed his eyes and he moved his hand to the jawbone around his neck.  His thumb pressed into one of the molars.  “Yes.  So very real.”

Wisdom watched his face as they continued to move their pieces.  He was gathering words, face settling into a scowl.

“I want to do something for Paya,” he finally said, releasing the jaw from his grasp.  He moved a pawn forward.  “I want to show her what she’s come to mean to me.  Words can do nothing without action.”

“What were you thinking?”

“She craves answers.  Many things that the Dalish taught her lack truth and she’s sensed this and it makes her doubt her own faith.  However, I’m unsure whether confirming her doubts will be a relief to her.”

“How would you confirm her doubts?”

He sat back, looking into the bedchamber at the unmoving figment.  “That’s what I’m unsure of.  I have many secrets to share but none that I feel would be beneficial for her to know.”

The pieces clicked on the board.  He noticed that he’d made an error a few moves ago and that she had given him an opening.  A tease.  Or a trap.  He’d never beaten her before at this game and never did she let him win.

“There is much to your knowledge aside from yourself, lethallin,”  Wisdom said.  He maneuvered around her bait.  It was a farce, however.   She smiled as she moved her rook in front of his king.  “Check.”

He studied the pieces across the board for a moment, to decide his next plan of action.  “There is much I must contemplate.”  He moved his king.

“I think whatever you offer her, will be pleasing to her.  Check.”

“I believe you.  I simply hope what I decide upon will express its significance correctly.”  He moved his king once more.

“I know, lethallin.  Checkmate.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Skyhold was alive with many people moving about.  The rest of the Inquisition had made it back to Skyhold before Paya and her traveling party returned themselves.  Word had come from Hawke to meet in Crestwood in a couple of weeks.  The Inquisitor and her cohorts would depart in a couple of days.  However, in their downtime, they busied themselves with other tasks.  Solas and Alexander gathered a few books from the library and then disappeared to the mage tower.  Khash was either running around with Sera or fooling around with Bull and Dorian.  Many others just seemed rather busy with their small tasks so Paya made her way to Herald’s Rest.  If Cole was hanging around they could have some conversation.  Somewhat to her surprise, the Iron Bull was there.

“Hey boss,” he grinned, “If you’ve got time tonight I’d like you to meet my men.  Get drinks and all of that.”

Paya smiled, “Of course,” she said.  She only really knew Krem.  She’d seen the other Chargers, but only in passing.  

Giving each other a nod, Paya ascended to the attic to see if Cole was present.  He sat in his corner, leaning against a crate with his eyes closed.  When Paya came to sit beside him, he didn’t move to acknowledge her.  But she knew he was aware.

“A lovely voice and a lovely face.  If I stand here, maybe she’ll see,” he uttered.

Paya thought of Krem standing on his favorite chair down in the main level of the tavern.  Cole opened his eyes and looked at her.  

“You wanted to see me?” he asked.

She nodded.  “Yes.  It seems everyone else has some task they’re occupying themselves with.  Being around you is rather comforting, though.  So I thought I’d come looking.”

He smiled, “I’m glad you aren’t afraid of me.”

“Who is afraid?”

“Sera.  Madame Vivienne.  The Iron Bull was at first but now he sees me and thinks ‘his weird squirrely kid.’  Others aren’t afraid but apprehensive.  Demon, they think.  I don’t think I’m a demon.”

“I don’t think so either,” Paya said.  She paused and peered down the opening of the attic to see if she could spy anyone below.  “How did you enjoy the Winter Palace?”

“It was loud.  That was alright, but then they all hid behind face after face.  Lies hidden behind twisted truths.”

“Sometimes I believe it’d be better if people tried to be a little more honest.”

Cole smiled.

“What did you think of the masks?”  Paya asked.

“Their masks?”

Paya giggled, “Yes, on their faces.”

“You mean that wasn’t their face already?”

“No, it was like a hat.  For your face.”

Cole tipped his head to the side, his hat tapping her shoulder as he did.  “Their hats were big.”

“They were.”

Maryden began strumming to the tune of I Am the One down below.  Paya took Cole’s hand then.  It was cold and a little clammy.  Surprisingly soft for one who used his hands so often.  She gave it a squeeze.  “Did you get the chance to dance?”

“I did not think I could.”

“Would you like to?”

He looked at her for a moment, then smiled.  “Yes.”

They stood, moving to a slightly more spacious corner where the sound from below could be heard a little more clearly.  Paya helped him in his hand placements and took the lead.  They swayed in circles there for a couple of songs and Cole only stepped on her foot once.  

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Paya reentered Herald’s Rest later that evening and went straight to the corner that Bull and Krem typically occupied.  A handful of other Chargers were present, each with their own mugs.  Bull waved Paya over.  “Glad you could make it!  Glad we’re not drinking alone!”  he announced her presence.

Paya pulled a seat up and Krem handed a mug of ale to her.  Bull smirked at it, “How you doin’ Krem de la Creme?”

Krem nodded toward Paya, “Your Worship. I’m so glad he has someone new to hit with that joke.”

“Are you alright with just Krem?  Or do you prefer Cremiscius?”

“Krem’s faster.  And the chief's nicknames usually end up sticking,” he replied.

Bull leaned in, “Hey, when I was growing up, my name was just this series of numbers. We all give each other nicknames under the Qun.”

Krem returned the smirk on Bull’s face, “Do they ever wear shirts under the Qun, Chief?  Or do they just run around binding their breasts like that?”

Bull frowned.  “It’s a harness, Krem.”

“Yes.  For your pillowy man bosoms!  Let me know if you need help binding.  You could really chisel something out of that overstuffed look.”

Paya blinked for a moment at the comment.  “You too?”

“Do you know someone else who binds their breasts?”  Krem asked, a bit of a surprise in his voice but also amusement.

“Well, no, but my brother is somewhere in between here and there.”

“I’ve spoken with him a few times,” Krem replied, “Mostly on his way to the Chief’s bedroom,” he teased.

Bull nudged him, “Hey!”  They laughed and relaxed again.  Bull explained the concept of an Aqun-Athlok , someone born as one gender but living as another.  And then went on to introduce the other Chargers.  

There was Dalish:  a Dalish elf, or at least former Dalish, an “archer” who wielded a “non-magical bow” with an “elven aiming crystal” atop it.  She bore the Vallaslin of Dirthamen, like Paya did, but in green.  Paya hopped in on the joke with an “Oh, I use one of those too.”

Then Grim:  he wasn’t much of a conversationalist.  Bull believed he may have been the lost king of a small country or some sort of chieftain but Paya wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth or pulling her leg.

Rocky the Dwarf was exiled from Orzammar due to “stupid noble crap” in addition to setting off explosives in the Shaperate’s office.  

Then there was Skinner, an elf Bull hired after she killed a group of nobles who wanted to test their blades out in her Alienage.

And lastly, Stitches: a Fifth Blight veteran and healer for the company.

After introductions and drinks and conversations, Rocky started up a drinking song.  Everyone joined in by the end of it.  

At the end of the night, Bull thanked Paya for coming and meeting his crew.

“Of course.  They seem like good people.”

He grinned and agreed, “They’re great.”

“I’m glad to have them with us.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

It was late in the evening and raining when the Inquisition finally arrived near Crestwood.  Many troubles were occurring -- the dead were walking, a wyvern was terrorizing the countryside, and there was a rift at the bottom of a lake.  While most of the party stayed in the Inquisition’s camp, Paya and a few of her companions -- Solas, Varric, and Alexander -- made their way to the village to meet with Hawke.  There were a number of undead on the road leading to the village, whom the combatants in the party dealt with. A pillar of ice here, a Bianca bolt there.  

They came upon a pair of Grey Wardens, who were cutting down their own undead.  They were in Crestwood only to search for the Grey Warden Alistair and would be leaving shortly.  There would be no help for the troubles here.  And the Inquisition did not plan to reveal they were looking for the same person.

When they finally got to the village, they had to strike down a few additional undead trying to enter.  The two militia at the gate thanked them and then allowed them in.

The village was as gloomy as the weather.  Only a handful of villagers were out of their homes, packing up a pitifully small market or simply on their way back home.  The tavern they stepped into was much warmer but the few drunkards that remained within kept to themselves and it was quiet.

Inside, they found Hawke wearing simple leathers and a hooded traveling cloak.  She’d found a dark corner to sit in with her arms crossed over her chest, an untouched pint in front of her.

“Marian,” Varric made a point of using the least identifying term for her, wearing a false grin that was believable to all but those who knew him personally.  He was uncomfortable.  He was sly and roguish but did not enjoy the sneaking around.  At least this manner of sneaking.  The weather was certainly putting a damper on things as well.

“Varric,” she tore her eyes from the window she’d been studying, “Good to see you.”  Paya and Varric pulled seats up on the opposite side of Hawke’s table while the other three men found a table to sit and talk quietly around.

“The bandits we’ve been tracking seem to be holed up in one of the caves near here,” Hawke started the actual discussion. 

Paya pulled up a small map of the area she had folded up in her pack.  “Where do you think?”

Hawke leaned over the table to look at the map as Paya flattened it out.  “This area.”  She circled a range with her middle finger and then tapped a spot with her index, twice.

“You think they’re expecting us?” Varric asked.

Hawke sat back and smoothed her bangs out of her face beneath her hood.  “Most likely.  We might want to head there separately,”  she said, “I can try to corner them.  And then you can swoop in for the ambush.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Varric replied and nudged Paya’s arm lightly.  Paya made a note on the map before tucking it away once again.  

“Will he have moved by tomorrow?” Paya asked

“Unlikely,” Hawke replied.  “But I am going to seek him out once we’re done here.  It will be easier for me to do that in this sort of cover.”

Paya nodded and then rose.  “I have a few things I must handle here, so I’ll seek you out again tomorrow night.”

Hawke agreed.  “Would you share a drink with me before leaving?”

“I’ll take you up on that,” Varric smirked.

Paya gave a slight bow of her head, “I believe I will have to decline.” Her gaze traveled toward Solas.  He lifted his eyes from his conversation with Alexander and smiled toward her.  She absently bit her lower lip.

Varric chuckled, “You’re hopeless, Daffodil.  Go get him.”

Paya gave another polite bow of her head and rose to join the others.  As she sat across from Solas, Alexander rose and made his way toward Hawke and Varric.  Likely to pick the Champion’s brain over the tales he had read of her.

Chapter Text

The rain didn’t appear to let up at all the following day.  Cassandra joined Paya to meet with the Mayor, Gregory Dedrick, both wearing heavy wool capes to stave off the cold of the rain.  Knocking upon his home, he welcomed them in.

Word was sent ahead that they would be meeting with him, about the undead.  

“The undead are rising because of the Rift in the lake,” Paya explained, “If we can reach it then I can close it and the undead will cease coming.”

“The rift is that light, right?  It’s coming from the caves underneath Old Crestwood.”

“Old Crestwood?” Paya asked with a cock of her head.

“Darkspawn flooded it during the Blight ten years ago,” Dedrick explained, “The village was wiped out along with the refugees we had taken in.”

“There was a dam up ahead,” Cassandra said, “Could we not empty the lake?”

The mayor eyed Cassandra incredulously.  “Excuse me..?  No.  There’s… there has to be another way!”  he said.

“Why not?”

“The old fort that controls the dam has been overtaken by bandits.  I couldn’t have you risking your life just for that!”  he replied.

Cassandra crossed her arms, not buying it.  Paya reached out and gently took the mayor’s hands between her own.  “Please,” she said, “I do not feel right leaving Crestwood in this state.  There are many innocent lives endangered by the undead that have laid siege here.”

Dedrick swiveled his gaze around for a brief moment, gathering his next words.  He let out a sigh and smoothed his hair back out of his face.  “I suppose it must come to this then,” he said.  He wiped his hands off on his pants.  “The fort isn’t far from here.  You can see it from just outside my door.  Please take care…”

“I will,” Paya politely bowed, “Thank you, Mayor.”  She turned her gaze upon Cassandra.   “Let us go back to camp?”

Lunch was underway back in the camp.  Each of Paya’s friends had gathered in a circle around one of the fires.  Surprisingly, she found Khash sitting beside Solas.  They were two completely different elves; Khash, a young and mostly inexperienced child next to Solas.  He slouched with his legs stretched out in front of him.  His long hair had been messily tossed up into place on top of his head to keep it out of the bowl he ate from.  Meanwhile, Solas sat with his back straight and ankles neatly tucked beneath the other.  They both held their spoons in identical ways, however.  Lightly sitting on the web between their thumbs and index fingers, balancing at the tip of their ring fingers while the former fingers held it in place.  Paya felt a small titter bubble up in her chest but she kept it down to just a smile and found a seat beside Dorian, who nudged her with his knee in greeting.

Food was enjoyed and then they set to discussing their next plans of action.

Leliana’s people would go ahead and scout out Caer Bronach -- the fort Mayor Dedrick had previously described -- to determine how much firepower would be necessary.  After gathering the necessary backup to take the castle, they’d hit it in the morning, and then, as soon as the lake was successfully drained, Paya and her team would immediately descend to Old Crestwood to deal with the demons that lay in wait as well as the lake rift.

Tonight, they had a “bandit” to meet with.  Paya chose to take Blackwall; a friendly Grey Warden face might be some relief for Alistair to find.  Then Solas, of course.  Her brother as usual.  And then Sera, who was sympathetic with the Grey Wardens, and another kind face to put their new ally at ease.  A few of Paya’s companions opted to join the scouting party for Caer Bronach and the others decided to seek out the Wyvern further in the countryside.  Everyone had something to occupy themselves with tonight.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Hawke stood just inside the cave entrance, leaning against its wall.  She had her arms crossed and her chin tucked to her chest, with her eyes closed.  Her eyes darted open upon Paya’s approach.  The rain and humidity had caused her hair to frizz up and the natural curl of her hair became more prominent.  “There you are.”

She was in proper gear now, now that she no longer had prying eyes upon her.  She seemed much more comfortable with the steel armor on and held herself more confidently.

“Come on in,” she said, beckoning Paya and her companions to follow.

The space inside was gated off and Hawke pushed it open to allow the others entry.  The makeshift room was empty besides a few tables pushed against the cave walls and stalagmites.  Materials were spread out over the tables and somehow had not been taken by the dampness of the cave.

Paya’s head on a swivel, she followed along the natural patterns of the rock, more intrigued by that than their Grey Warden’s current living situation.

She heard the sound of a sword being unsheathed first, and then the sound of Solas igniting his palm with fire.  She looked to her side.  Solas had appeared beside her without making a sound.  On her other side, Khash, daggers drawn.  As she turned, she laid her eyes upon a man donning the Grey Warden uniform, his sword held inches from her neck.

Hawke quickly stepped into view of the Grey Warden, “It’s alright, they’re with me.  This is the Inquisitor!”

The man wore a scowl as he placed his sword back into its scabbard.  He crossed his arms, studying her as Blackwall and Sera arrived. 

The man rested his eyes upon Blackwall.  The gambeson Blackwall wore gave away his alignment with the Wardens.

“You’ve got a Warden with you?” the man asked.

Blackwall bowed his head.  “Warden Blackwall, at your service.”

The man’s eyes widened, “Blackwall?  My mentor,” he paused, his mouth parted with a word still at the tip of his tongue, “Duncan.  He spoke of you.”

“Duncan,” Blackwall tipped his head.  His voice spoke recognition.  “Of course.  Good man.”  It sounded forced, though not for uncertainty.

The man relaxed considerably and now met Paya with a casual grin on his face.  “I’m Alistair.  It’s an honor to meet all of you.  I just wish it were somewhere nicer.”

“The honor is mine,” Paya bowed.  “I understand you were amongst the heroes of the Fifth Blight?”

Alistair sighed and smoothed his hand down his face, though he had a grin on his lips, “Yes, I was.  But that’s just history now.  I answer to Warden-Commander Clarel now.  Or I did, anyway.”

“What exactly has happened with the Wardens?” Paya asked, “There were a few searching for you on our way here.”

“I made the mistake of disagreeing with the direction things have been headed in,” Alistair responded.

“Well, at the very least, I’m glad we have your help,” Paya reassured.

Alistair took it and paced toward a notebook that sat on the table closest to him.  “Thank you.  I’ve heard that you are pursuing Corypheus?”

“Yes…He’s responsible for the Breach but he’s also responsible for the corruption of forces such as the Templars,” Paya replied, “Now that I think of it, the Grey Wardens began disappearing around the same time the Breach happened.  Do you think that may be connected?” she asked.

Alistair leafed through the old pages of the text before him.  His voice grew solemn and soft.  “Yes, I do.  When Hawke killed him in the past, the Wardens believed their troubles regarding him were resolved with.  However, it turned out he was less dead than we had thought.  Archdemons cannot die by a simple blade and I feared Corypheus had the same regenerative capabilities.”  He closed the text gently and turned toward the Inquisitor.  Leaning on the table and crossing his arms, he continued, “I began investigating.  There were hints and glimpses of an answer but nothing solid.  No proof.  And then every Warden in Orlais began to hear this thing we call ‘the Calling.’”

“Carver has mentioned that to me before,” Hawke said, “Not delicately.  And not as a positive experience.  You didn’t tell me you were dealing with that, though.  Why haven’t you said anything?”

Alistair scratched at the stray bits of stubble along his chin.  “It was a secret.  A dangerous one.  I try to actually keep a few of my oaths to the Wardens.”

“What exactly is this calling?” Paya asked.

Alistair paused and stitched his brows together.  “Well, the Wardens are tied to the Darkspawn, right?  Connected somehow.  And eventually, that connection poisons you.”  He leaned off the table but kept his eyes on the floor.  He did not seem too fond of the subject.  “You get bad dreams and then you start to hear the music.  It calls to you.  Quiet, first, and then so loud you can’t bear it.”  He met Paya’s gaze then, “At that point, you say farewell and enter the Deep Roads to die fighting:  ‘In death, sacrifice.’ and all that.”  

Hawke took a hold of Alistair’s arm, gently.  “And every Grey Warden in Orlais is hearing this? They think they’re dying?”

“Yes, and I believe Corypheus is responsible,” Alistair replied.  “If all the Wardens die, who will stop the next Blight?  That has them terrified.  They’re panicking and taking drastic measures.  Ones I don’t agree with.”

“And their desperate attempts to stop doom they see on the horizon, they play right into Corypheus’s hands,” Hawke surmised.

“ All of the Wardens are hearing the Calling then?  Including you?”  Paya reiterated.

“Yes, unfortunately.  Fighting or talking helps though.  Like a chronic pain that only fades when your mind is on something else.  But not completely.  And when things are quiet or my mind is not pulled by something else…”  his voice dropped to a near whisper, ”I can hear it.  It’s like a song you can’t get out of your head.”  Then he smirked, “It’s damned annoying, frankly.”

Paya then turned toward Blackwall, “And you?”

He stood firm, crossing his arms, “I do not fear the Calling,” he said, “and worrying about it only gives it power.  Anything Corypheus does will only strengthen my resolve.”

Khash walked over toward the book Alistair was looking through previously.  The Warden picked it up and tucked it away before the elf could touch it.  He turned toward Alistair and crossed his arms, leaning against the table.  “How does Corypheus manipulate this Calling?”

Alistair shrugged.  “I have no idea,” he thumbed through the book but did not open it, “It’s probably related to what he is.  He’s connected to the Blight.  Not a product of it like most Darkspawn.  And Grey Wardens are connected to Darkspawn.  My assumption is he works something like an Archdemon and, trust me, I hope I’m wrong about that.  That connection we all share is probably why he can gain some control of the Grey Wardens when they get too close.  He’s probably utilizing that here.”

“So they’re making some last-ditch effort before they die off?” Khash asked.

Alistair sighed and smoothed back his hair.  “That’s fairly close to fact.  Warden-Commander Clarel… She proposed a few drastic things.  Blood magic and such.  To prevent future Blights before we’re all gone.”  He paced toward another table.  “I protested.  Perhaps too loudly.  And Clarel sent guards.  And… here we are.”

“What is our next move?”  Paya asked.

Alistair flattened out a map on the table he stood in front of now.  He gestured to a region in Western Orlais that was mostly desert.  “I’ve been keeping an eye on the Wardens and I believe they’re gathering somewhere in the Western Approach.  Once I pin down where exactly that is, we can head there and maybe put a stop to that.”

Paya stood beside him and followed his movements.  “We have people back in Skyhold that can help you with that,” she said.

He looked at her, grinning softly, “I appreciate the offer.  I think I’ll take you up on it.”

“Where will you be going, Hawke?”  Khash asked.

Hawke looked around the space they occupied as if he were addressing some mysterious addition to their group.  “Well...I have some business to handle near where Lothering used to be.  I will meet you in the Western Approach when the time comes.”

“How would we be contacting you?” Paya asked.

“Varric knows how.”

“Very well,” Paya said, “Alistair?  Would you like an escort or would you prefer to make your way to Skyhold alone?”

“I think it’d probably be best if I meet you all there,” he said, giving Paya a bow.

Paya returned the gesture.  A few passing glances were exchanged and goodbyes were said and all departed shortly.  Paya and her companions returned to camp.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Paya sat with Bull and a couple of the Chargers -- Krem, and Dalish.  They had been called out to help take Caer Bronach from the bandits.  After Rocky took out the front gate, Cassandra, Blackwall, and Cole would charge in and get the fight started.  While they had the bandits’ front line occupied, Paya and her team would sweep in and take on the rest of the bandits up top.  Paya’s mages and Varric would be joining the fray last, offering support and healing when necessary.  The rest of the chargers were dispersed amongst these different groups.  They were just waiting for Blackwall’s horn to signal them.

Krem and Dalish were playing some card game the Chargers had invented while Paya and Bull leaned on the boulder they used to conceal their position.

“You seem anxious, Boss,” Bull noted in a low voice.

“I am.  We haven’t exactly performed a takeover like this before,” she replied.

He nudged her shoulder with his elbow.  “It’ll be good.  Your people make good plans.  And you’ve got me watching your back!”

She smiled at him and patted his arm.  “Thanks, Bull.”

“We can take this as a warm-up for taking care of that dragon that flew overhead.”

Paya nearly snorted, “Bull, I think that’s a bit different.”

“It’s a warm-up, not a rehearsal.”  They could hear an explosion go off near the fort.  At that, Krem and Dalish quickly began putting away their cards as Paya and Bull rose to their feet.  “Where’s your brother, might I ask?” Bull asked as he readied his axe.

“We sent him and Sera back to Skyhold.  Some relief aid was requested of us by the troops in the Exalted Plains and they’re going to survey it with Scout Harding.”

“Ah.  They’ll be good with that.  Sneaky types.”

Blackwall’s horn sounded and the four of them took charge.

As they passed through the entrance, the familiar cooling sensation of one of Solas’s barriers fell over each of them.  Paya glanced back and saw him, standing at a near hill with Vivienne to his left.  His hand was still extended outward from casting the spell.  Unable to pause to affirm him, Paya followed close behind Bull.

The front group already had their blades locked with a small group of bandits.  Cole disappeared and reappeared out of existence, dancing around the courtyard to deal killing blows and knock those still standing off guard.  He paused for a moment as Paya passed.  He smiled, waved, tipped his head downward so his hat concealed his face, and then vanished again.

Paya, Bull, Krem, and Dalish ascended a set of stairs.  Bull and Krem taking the lead, they plowed melee attackers down while Paya threw ice, electricity, and fire at the ranged attackers.  At one point, an invisible force shoved several of the bandits off a ledge.  Krem turned his head toward Dalish, “Just an aiming crystal.”

“That’s right.”

They were stopped in a corridor, where it seemed the bandits were attempting to create a choke point.  Bull and Krem were locked axes and shields with the frontmost bandits.  Paya squeezed between them, and her first step forward became coated in ice.  She seemingly faded from view as she darted forward.  The bandits she passed by, passed through, became coated in a generous sheet of ice.  She’d made it through the choke point and turned to forcefully pull the entire group of bandits into one spot.  Knocking together, a few of them fell to the ground while others lost balance and plummeted below into the fray.  Those still standing were dizzied or stunned and Bull and Krem dealt with them easily.  The four ran forward once again and continued to clear bandits until they reached the topmost part of the walls.

They could see most of the battle below.  The rest of the mages had joined in and were working their way through the bandits and their allies, attacking and supporting as planned.  Paya could see Solas, pulling boulders from the Fade and throwing bandits around.  He happened to spot her, and he shot a playful smirk in her direction before turning and concussing a bandit with the head of his staff.  

She watched him for many moments.  He was graceful as he was powerful but had a noticeable blind spot directly behind him.  He tended to keep his back toward the wall to compensate for this, but there were times where that was not possible.  It was one of these times where Paya watched a dagger, thrown from across the field by a rogue, glance across Solas’s waist.  He spun and, with his magic, threw the dagger back, but the injury was already beginning to bleed, staining the furred combat robes he wore.  He threw down a barrier over himself and dropped his staff to cast spells with one-handed gestures, while he gripped the injury with his other hand. Paya lunged forward, some instinct pushing her to go help him.

The Iron Bull grabbed her and pulled her away from the ledge.

“Woah, boss.  It won’t help anyone for you to fall to your death here.”

Cole appeared beside Solas, observing the injury.  Paya saw him mouth something, but could not hear what was said.

The fighting was beginning to die down.  Bull handed Paya a horn, intended to call the victory.  Blowing it, Leliana and Cullen’s people appeared and began fully taking over the fort.  Surviving bandits were restrained and shipped off to face legal justice and the Inquisitor and her inner circle gathered on the ground level to tend to themselves.

There were minimal injuries.  Aside from Solas’s own wound-- which sat just below his ribcage -- Cassandra also was nursing a bump to her head, and Bull had finally noticed the sting of a cut on his shoulder blade, left by a passing arrow.

Paya, Solas, and Cole ducked into an interior room so they could help him peel away his combat robes to treat the injury.  Cole seemingly materialized a potion for Solas, directing him to drink it while Paya began dressing the wound.  The injury was shallow, and Solas had already done some degree of healing on it before they had gotten to him.

He watched her face.  Paya was no healer, but she was picking things up from him.  She’d spent enough time in the surgery with Cole to pick up a bit of first aid as well.  Her eyes were locked onto her work as she smoothed down a bandage infused with elfroot.  He reached down to her face and scooped a loose lock of hair off of her forehead, tucking it into its proper place.  Her violet eyes met his.  He smiled.

“Forgive me for distracting you,” he said.

She pulled her hands away, moving her eyes to examine his blood upon them.  “I’m done anyway…”

He put his hands over hers, a small wave of light pulsing over them in a manner similar to his barriers.  Just like that, the blood was gone.

“Cole, could you give us a moment?”  Paya asked politely.

“I will go check on the others,” he replied and ducked out.

She sat beside Solas once Cole had departed.  

She spoke, “Solas, you must be careful.”  She handed him his shirt so that he may mend it while they spoke.

“I usually am, Vhenan,” he replied.  He bent down to his bag, which, usually attached to his belt, was tossed haphazardly aside when his robes had been removed.  Inside was a small container in which he kept a needle and sturdy thread.  He got to work.  His hands were steady and strong.  It really was just a surface wound.

She rested her head on his shoulder and watched his hands.  The needle wove its way in and out of the fabric.  The tear was mild and was easily pulled shut.  “I know.  But sometimes even the most cautious people need reminders,” she paused, “I’m sorry for distracting you as well.”

“You were no distraction,'' he assured, and then he smirked, “Well, perhaps a bit.  I would have been pleased to think you were impressed by my skill in battle.  Rarely do you get to watch.”

She let out a small laugh and pressed her forehead into his shoulder.  “Competing with the others for my affection, are you?  Like wolves -- when they seek mates”

He vibrated with a chuckle, “Yes, like a wolf.”  He pulled his shirt back over his head, careful not to disturb Paya’s carefully placed bandages.  “Do I have your permission to join you to the dam?”

She smiled and stood.  “I suppose,” she offered her hand to him, “As long as you stay by my side should we have to enter combat again.”

He took her hand and rose, then bent down to kiss her knuckles.  “ Ma nuvenin, Vhenan ”

Chapter Text

Back to Skyhold they went.  After clearing out the dead and the rift from Old Crestwood, they found old notes unsuccessfully destroyed by the Mayor.  He drowned out the old town intentionally to rid their citizens of refugees during the Blight.  He was now in the caravan back to Skyhold, turned over to the Inquisition by the living citizens of Crestwood.  

The injury on Solas’s side was healing nicely already.  You wouldn’t have known he had been hurt in the first place.  Now he sat in a wagon with Paya. Dorian and Alexander had taken the reins in front.  Cole sat with a book gifted to him from Alexander, leaning on a pile of everyone’s knapsacks.  Bull sat in the very back, reviewing a few letters that had been delivered to them before they had left.  The Chargers were in a wagon behind them.

Solas had his legs outstretched, leaning against one side of the wagon while his feet threatened to touch the other side.  Paya sat between his legs, leaning back so her head lay on his chest.  Soil and pine trees and daffodils.  He was examining a pendant Paya had begun wearing recently.  The leaf of an elfroot plant, preserved through some sort of resin and secured with a woven leather cord to hang loosely.  A gift from Sera that had been handed over not long after they returned to Skyhold from Halamshiral.  She called it a good luck charm.  ‘So the glow won’t hurt so much in the future,’ she’d said.

“Hey boss,” Bull spoke up, “Might want to see this.”

Solas released Paya and she scooted over to sit beside Bull.  “What is it?”

“This is word from my contacts with the Ben-Hassrath,” he said.  “They want to form an alliance with the Inquisition.”

“Really?”

“Trust me, boss, I was surprised too.  We aren’t exactly the type to form alliances.”  He handed her the letter, allowing her to skim it.

“They must be taking this matter with the Breach rather seriously, then,” she replied. 

“They want to meet up on the Storm Coast.  There’s a task they want us to perform before we move forward with any sort of alliance.”

“A test,” Paya said.

“A test,” Bull agreed.  “All my men are here if we want to turn this thing around to head north now instead of later..”

Paya glanced back into the wagon, looking at Solas and then Cole, and then out the front to where she saw Dorian and Alexander conversing quietly.

“It’s a rare opportunity, Inquisitor,” Solas said formally.

“But you are not a fan of the Qun, Solas.”

He nodded, “That is correct, but we may need their aid against Corypheus.”

“Could you ask Dorian to stop the carriage then?

Solas maneuvered to the front of the wagon to relay the request to the Tevinters.  As the wagon slowed, Bull hopped out of the back to signal the Chargers to stop their own wagon.  

The matter was discussed, and they would be headed for the Storm Coast after restocking in the Hinterlands.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“We have time to warn them,” Paya said hurriedly.  They stood atop a cliff.  They had successfully signaled the Qunari Dreadnought.  But there were still Venatori on shore, headed toward the Chargers, who were none the wiser.

“No.  Bull’s men need to hold that position,” Gatt, the Qunari elf, said in a scolding tone.

“They do that,” Bull replied, “they’re dead.”

“And if they don’t, the Venatori retake it, and the dreadnought is dead,”  Gatt continued.  Bull simply shook his head and turned toward the Chargers, his hand grasping at a horn on his hip. “You’d be throwing away an alliance between the Inquisition and the Qunari!”  Gatt pleaded, “You’d be declaring yourself Tal-Vashoth!”  Bull just glared at him.  “With all you’ve given the Inquisition, half the Ben-Hassrath think you’ve betrayed us already!”

Dorian scoffed nearby.  “So that’s it…”

Gatt paid no heed.  “I stood up for you, Hissrad!  I told them you would never become Tal-Vashoth!”

Bull bent down to be more level with Gatt’s eyes.  His voice was low and dark.  “They’re my men.”

“I know,” Gatt said, “But you need to do what’s right, Hissrad.  For this alliance. And for the Qun.”

Paya, having been anxiously watching the Venatori below, spoke up, “Bull, if you don’t signal them soon, they’ll be overwhelmed!”

The Iron Bull made his decision.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Back at Skyhold, once briefing her advisors on the outcome of their meeting with the Qunari, Paya retreated out of the castle to locate Bull.

First, she went to the Herald’s Rest.  He wasn’t in his usual place, not at the bar.

Approaching the bar, Cabot greeted her, “Inquisitor.”

“Have you seen Bull today?” Paya asked.

“He came in for something to drink earlier, but went out to the training yard after.”

“Thanks, Cabot.”  She left a few silvers on the bar for him to pocket as she walked out of the tavern.

She saw Cassandra first.  She leaned on a tree nearby, watching Bull converse with Gatt, who had come to give his goodbyes.  He turned toward Paya as she approached.

“Inquisitor,” he said, “It is my duty to inform you that there will be no alliance between our peoples.  Nor will you be receiving any more Ben-Hassrath reports from your Tal-Vashoth ally.”

“How unfortunate,” Cassandra scoffed from the sidelines.

Paya smiled at her.

“I will be taking my leave now.”  Gatt bowed, gave a passing glance to Bull, and then left.

Bull sighed, “So much for that.”

Paya shrugged, “I believe what you did was worth it.  Are you alright?”

“Yeah.  I’ll have a lot more free time now without having to write all those reports,” he smirked, “Know if Khash is busy later?”

Paya gave a playful shove to his arm, “Go ask him yourself.”

Krem approached then.  Bull put his hands on his hips.  “You’re late.”

“Sorry chief.  Still sore from fighting off all those Vints.  Good to see you, Inquisitor,” Krem greeted.

Paya smiled, “Good work out there, Krem.”

He shrugged, “Always easy with the chief watching our backs, Your Worship.  He’s even breaking open a cask of Chasind Sack Mead for the chargers tonight!”

“Damn it, Krem!  That’s the kind of thing you don’t have to mention to the Inquisitor!” Bull chided, holding back a laugh.

He handed Krem a shield and prepared his own.  

“Sorry, chief.”

Paya stepped over beside Cassandra to watch.  Bull came at Krem, who stood his ground.

He smiled, tossing the shield aside, “Ah, forget it!  You’re doing fine.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“I’d be afraid of dropping it down below.”

She found him sitting precariously on a battlement, holding a pad of paper in his lap so it would catch the sunlight.  She only got a glimpse, but the shapes he was scratching out appeared to be that of what he painted in the rotunda.

“I have a good hold on it,” he said.

She gingerly climbed up and sat beside him.  “You know, I was curious if you’d ever let me see what was in that.”

He painfully tore his gaze away from his work.  It was in pencil now, but the stains on the page showed his prolific use of graphite in the pad previously.  “Perhaps I may.”  He looked back at his drawing and then turned back a few pages.

There was an assortment of drawings in different media, but specifically charcoal.  Some of the drawings were strangers to her.  Mostly elves, some humans.  But there were also many faces from the Inquisition.  A detailed drawing of Cole’s eyes, a sketch of the patterns of Bull’s tattoos.  Playful doodles of Sera and Khash making a pie.  There was even a self-portrait or two. And then herself.  From different angles, in different moments.  Mostly candid, but there were ones where she stared back at herself with hints of smiles on her lips.  In each, he’d gone back over them with red ink or paint to highlight her vallaslin.

“Have you ever painted someone like this?  Like a portrait?” she asked.

“A long time ago,” he replied, flipping his pad closed.  “I’m out of practice in oils.”

“Would you paint me?” she turned toward him, touching his wrist gently.  “I could sit with you in the rotunda or maybe somewhere with better lighting?”

He smiled, “I would love to, Vhenan.”

“I’ll have you paid for it.  I would hate to take up your time and then not compensate you.”

“You don’t need to pay me to spend time with you, Vhenan.”  He lifted her hand and brought his lips to her knuckles.  She smelled like daffodils.  She smiled and squeezed his hand. 

He slowly stepped off of the battlement, then reached toward her, “Let me help you down.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The Inquisition didn’t get many slow days.  There was always something to do for the Inquisitor, it seemed.  However, Leliana’s people had not yet reported back from the Approach, and preparations for the Exalted Plains were not completed.  Sera and Khash had returned from the trip with Harding, however, and were up to their typical shenanigans.

Paya and Solas were in the gardens.  He sat facing her, tracing faint outlines in chalk on a canvas.  She kept still, watching the residents of Skyhold pacing about.  She could see Morrigan and Alistair from here, speaking beneath a small gazebo.  Morrigan had a boy with her -- he looked just like her.  Her son, possibly.  Alistair, himself, always seemed to wear a half-smirk, yet his eyes were sad.  Lonely.  Morrigan’s eyes spoke much the same but she did not force her enthusiasm.

“Have you spoken with Morrigan at all since we returned from Halamshiral?” Solas’s voice interrupted her musings about their secrets.

Paya began to turn toward him to address him but quickly moved back into her pose. “Only briefly.  I haven’t seen the boy before, though.”

“He arrived earlier today.  His name is Kieran, I believe,” he said, then he chuckled, “And you are permitted to relax, Paya.”  Her shoulders relaxed and she turned her head toward him.  The corners of his lips curved upward.  “He’s quite intuitive.  Mysterious.”

“Like his mother, then,” she said.  She began watching the gardens again.  Morrigan and Alistair had finished their conversation and he was leaving.  He glanced toward the pair of elves and gave a slight wave before escaping into the castle.

“Would you like to see what I have thus far?”  Solas asked.  She looked back toward him and nodded.

The sketch was rudimentary, gestural, but captured her features well.  Light danced across her eyes for the briefest of moments, escaping out of her with a smile.  “You’re amazing, Solas,” she breathed.

He exhaled a laugh through his nose and set the canvas aside. “Only because my subject is.”  Her ears turned pink as her cheeks did, she lifted her hand over her lips to conceal her utter joy in hearing that.

“Sweet talker,” she hummed.

He lowered her hand and placed a quick kiss on the corner of her lips.  “Mar nehn ma elgara.”

“Nar Av enast’em,” she half sang in reply.  She held her face close to his, just a breath away from another kiss.

“There is quite an audience, Vhenan,” Solas teased and pushed his forehead against hers.

She intertwined her fingers with his.  “I am not so noble that I’d shy from your touch in front of others.”

They exchanged soft, brief kisses.

“I’d hate to interrupt but I have an appointment with your dear apostate, Inquisitor.”  Dorian had materialized near them.  

The elves peeled themselves away from each other and looked toward the Tevinter.  “Yes, that’s correct,” Solas said, “I had nearly forgotten.”  He unceremoniously wiped the remnants of chalk on his hands onto his pants as he stood, before offering his hand to Paya.

“You’re consulting with one of Solas’s friends, yes?” Paya asked as she got to her feet.

“That’s right.  About Alexander’s predicament,” Dorian replied.  “I am really quite excited about the endeavor.”

Solas took Paya’s hand and briefly kissed her knuckles.  “I’ll come find you once the daylight returns, Vhenan.”

“I look forward to it.”

He smiled, “Ar lath ma, Vhenan.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“How have I just learned that you’re a Somniari, Alexander.”  Dorian wasn’t facing him or Solas, but kept his view on the horizon just beyond the balcony.  They stood within a figment of an upper level of Skyhold.  In the Fade.  

“It’s not something I had reason to share before,” Marcellus replied.

“You two really are quite something,” Dorian finally looked back at them, genuinely smiling.

Solas came to stand beside Dorian, watching a half-set sun.  “My friend should be here soon.”

“You said it was a spirit of wisdom?”  Dorian asked.

Solas nodded.  “She has advised me many times in the past.  You are to be on your best behavior, understand?”

“Of course, mother, ” Dorian replied.  In a breath, a feminine figure manifested beside Marcellus.  

“Oh my, you’ve brought guests,” she hummed, “No game tonight, then?”  It was one of the first times Marcellus had seen Solas smile so warmly for something not dealing with the Inquisitor.

“Not this time, my friend,” Solas said. “Tonight I seek advice for my friend here.”

She turned toward Marcellus.  “Solas has told me about you, Master Marcellus.”

“Has he?” he glanced toward the elf, who gave no indication of guilt.

“Good things, I assure.  But also about your troubles.  Would you like tea?”

“It brews tea,”  Dorian repeated to himself.

Solas leaned toward him to explain, “It is just an illusion.  A realistic one.”

“I would take you up on that,” Marcellus agreed to the tea.  He blinked and a table had appeared on the opposite end of the balcony.  Wisdom sat at it and gestured for him to join her.

“Have you introduced it to the Inquisitor yet?”  Dorian asked.

Solas leaned against the railing of the balcony as he watched Marcellus’s interaction with the spirit.  “No.  Not yet.  I hope to do so soon, however.”

“I did hear whisperings of a disruption several months ago.  Before the Breach tore open the Veil,”  she and Marcellus were already talking.  “I suppose that must have been your trip here?”

“That’s possible,” he replied.  “I figured the event is what brought me here, but…”

“But the Breach wasn’t formed until after your arrival.”

Marcellus nodded.  “Yes.  The Breach can explain why Gereon’s brand of time magic reacted the way it did, but mine didn’t just send me forward in time, it transported me elsewhere as well.”

“Perhaps another force was responsible. I don’t think a miscalculation would be the only cause,” Wisdom said as she pressed a knuckle against her lip.

“I’ve been feeling much the same,” Marcellus replied.  “When I first saw the spell going wrong I suspected death before I suspected a time jump.  Are there demons or spirits who might interfere?”

“I do not claim to be able to see into the minds of demons but it isn’t unheard of.  Your time travel may very well have saved you from possession.”

“Frightening,” Dorian half-whispered from where he stood beside Solas.

“Do you have any advice on how we might be able to send him back home?”  Solas begged the question.

“Well, based on what happened to Redcliffe,” Marcellus interjected, “Using the Breach may be unwise.  We were only able to travel because of the Breach with Gereon’s spell.”

“So we must perfect the spell you used to get here?”  Dorian asked.

Wisdom put her teacup to her lips.  “That does not mean you cannot use what Magister Alexius learned in your favor.  He is serving your mages in your Skyhold, yes?”  She directed the question toward Solas specifically.

Marcellus, however, answered, “He is.  And when he’s not in the Mage Tower he resides in the dungeon.  The Inquisitor found it best both for his safety and the safety of others.”

“We have his research materials on hand, however,”  Dorian noted.

Solas moved over to better address Marcellus.  “You had successful attempts of time manipulation with non-living objects before the accident, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll start the same way.”

Wisdom had set her cup down and folded her hands in front of her face.  “Yes, that is quite wise of you, lethallin,” she giggled.

Marcellus and Dorian departed soon.  Solas meant to stay behind to continue a more private conversation with the spirit.

Chapter Text

With Celene’s life saved and Gaspard deposed, the war between their supporters in the Exalted Plains was drawing to an end.  The settlements there had been devastated by the fighting but it was being reclaimed by nature.  And the dead, unfortunately. 

Paya and her people were there for that day alone.  They planned to leave for Skyhold the following day.

The Inquisitor brought a good few of her companions so they could spread out and handle things more efficiently.  There was a Dalish clan taking up residence in the plains and Paya wished to make contact with them.  The dead needed exterminating as well.

Their parties were split into three groups:  Paya, her brother, Dorian, and Bull would go to speak with the elves.  Blackwall, Varric, Cassandra, Sera, and Vivienne would be clearing out demons from the various ramparts throughout the plains.  Solas, Alexander, and Cole would be conducting some research in the ruins spread throughout the area.

The elves were about as warm as one would expect.  They noted the Dalish heritage of both the Inquisitor and her brother, but gave stern looks to the clearly Tevinter Dorian and the very Qunari Bull.  Not as bad as some clans were, all things considered.  When asked how they could aid the camp, they were directed to an ancient gravesite to clear demons and cleanse the grounds.

“Var Bellanaris,” the name of the site, Khash had decided to give a history lesson, “translates to ‘Our Eternity.’  There are both ancient and new graves here.  If you die within a reasonable distance from here, you may get to rest with your ancestors as well.”

“It’s a surprise Orlais has left it untouched,” Dorian made note.

“Guilt maybe,” Khash said.  “Or they’re afraid of old elven curses.”

Paya turned toward them.  “Regardless of what’s keeping humans away, the wards keeping darker forces at bay need to be renewed.”

They approached the grounds, finding a mixture of lesser terror and wraiths.  The four of them went to work dispatching them.  Dorian and Paya stood back, hurling fire and ice toward the creatures.  Bull and Khash kept the terror demons occupied.  They moved in a sort of dance where Khash would lure a demon into Bull’s reach and duck behind him as he cut them down.  Paya utilized her rift magic to wrench a pair of wraiths to a central point before Dorian ignited a ward beneath them.

Bull lazily let his axe rest upon his shoulder.  “So.  Demons are gone,” he said, "What do we do next?”

“Inform Keeper Hawen,” Paya said, “He and I can work on restoring the wards.”

“Both of you?”  Dorian said as he turned his head to the side.

“I was Keeper Deshanna’s First.  I’ve been trained in this sort of magic.”

“You are her First,” Khash iterated, “Even if you’re the Inquisitor now.”  Paya returned his statement with a smile that didn’t meet her eyes.

“What will we be up to during then, boss?”  Bull asked.

“Well,” she went on, “you can head back to our camp.  Locate Cassandra’s team and help out over there.  Or you can help around the Dalish encampment.”

“I think clearing out more undead from those ramparts will be a better use of our time,” Bull confirmed.  He smirked over at Dorian, “Coming with?”

“I suppose,” he replied, “I don’t think I need any more of those stony glares shot my way for the day.”

“And you, Khash?”  Paya asked.

“I’ll hang around the Dalish camp,” he said, “I haven’t hung out with any halla since leaving the Free Marches.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Paya nodded.

After reporting to Keeper Hawen, they split up.  Bull and Dorian crossed the Enavuris to meet up with the rest of the Inquisition party while Paya left with Hawen to restore the wards of Var Bellanaris .  Khash made a beeline to the halla keeper and made his case for finding the local golden halla.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“There are several wolf statues in this area,” Marcellus noted.  Cole was cleaning off one of his daggers in the river beside him.  They’d encountered a few bandits on their way to their choice of ruin to nap in.  It sat at the top of a waterfall, where a large wolf statue overlooked the Enavuris river below it.

“As Paya said before, they’re meant to ward off evil spirits,” Solas replied, “Now, help me place the wards on the entrance.  It won’t wake you unless your magic’s involved as well,” he chuckled.

Cole stepped into the ruin as the ward was formed so he could not trigger its alarm, and then they laid their sleeping mats out.  Cole paced around the room they settled in, speaking whispers toward the walls.

The Exalted Plains were Wisdom’s domain.  It was the perfect chance to have another chat with her.  To share more Fade tea.

“Still haven’t introduced her to Paya?”  Marcellus asked.

“Not yet.  I plan to do so tonight, however.”  Solas sat and laid down on his mat, resting his hands subconsciously over his jawbone pendant where it settled.  Marcellus noticed that whenever they went Fadewalking together, Solas would always hold onto the necklace in the waking world, usually clutching it when they woke.  He’d never asked why; just made the observation.

He sat down on his own mat, “I’m sure they’ll adore each other.”

“I agree.”  Solas turned to smile at him.

“Well, Solas.  I’ll see you on the other side.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Did you see those mages?”  Varric pointed out a group that had passed through the area.  They were nervous.  Skittish.

Cassandra replied, “I did.” 

“Seems an odd time for tourism,”  Blackwall commented.

“They’re from Kirkwall,” Varric said, “I remembered one of those faces.  Hawke took a sword to the back shielding him.  It’s odd they’re so far from home.”

“Didn’t the majority of the Kirkwall circle devolve into blood magic?”  Vivienne accused.

“Yeah,” Varric sighed.  “Keep an eye out.  Something doesn’t feel right.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The ruins were in a better state of repair in the Fade, but still worn from some amount of time.  Things were quiet.  Solas had already stepped out of the ruin, so Marcellus followed suit.  The sky was the same murky green of the Fade that was typical.  Solas was not crafting some elaborate scene this time to give the illusion they were not in the Fade.  

“Odd…”  Solas said, barely moving his jaw.

“How so?”

Solas looked toward him.  “I called for her while you were making your way here,” he said.  “We’re in her domain.  There should be nothing hindering a response.”

“Then I assume you haven’t gotten one?”

“Yes…”

“Forgive me, Pride, for my tardiness” a voice interrupted them.  It sounded like Wisdom but something was off.  Marcellus was caught off by the usage of ‘Pride’ to refer to Solas.  However, he quickly recalled it as the literal translation of the elf’s name.

Solas approached her quickly, taking her by the arms.  She seemed barely capable of standing there before them.  

“What is wrong, my friend?”  He sounded as if he were trying to sound calm.

She did not meet his gaze, though briefly passed hers to Marcellus.  “The warring has made the veil thin here,” she said, “Demons are roaming much more freely than they should.  It is dangerous right now.”

“Worry not, my friend.  We placed wards and our friend is keeping watch over us,” Solas replied.

She made a feeble attempt at smiling toward him.  “Ah yes.  I sensed the presence of Compassion near here.  But that is not what I am referring to.”  Something pulsed in her chest.  She appeared visibly pained by it.  A green glow not unlike that of the rifts Paya so routinely sealed.  But it felt more sinister.

“Please, Sileal.   What’s wrong?”

“Do not be angry with them.  They know not what they are doing,” she replied.  A pulse, larger than the first one, came again and she bent over against Solas.

“ Sileal, what do you mean? ”   For the first time since he had met the elf, Marcellus recognized genuine fear in his voice.

She stepped away from Solas in that moment, “Be quick, Pride.  North of here.”  A dark sort of rift opened up at her feet and began to pull her inward.  

“Alexander, help her!”  Solas called toward Marcellus as he ducked down to grab onto his friend.  Marcellus was at his side in seconds, taking a hold of her as they pulled with futility.  The portal was stronger than they were.  And soon, their hands were on the solid ground.  The rift was gone, and Wisdom with it.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Paya and Keeper Hawen made it back to the camp after finishing with their wards.  Khash came to greet them, properly covered in dirt from running around after halla and the like.  He gave Paya a proud grin.  “Enjoy yourself?” she asked.

“Indubitably,” he replied.

“Inquisitor,” Hawen called, Paya redirected herself toward him.  “One of my own wishes to join your Inquisition,” he said, “Would you accept him?”

“I would be honored to have one of your clan join us,” she gave a bow in response.  His name was Loranil.  Paya sent Khash off with him and they spoke as if they were old friends.

She turned to address Hawen again.  He went on, “I’m grateful for your aid today, Inquisitor.  You will always be welcome amongst us.”

Paya smiled.  “Thank you, Keeper.”  The hair stood up on the back of her neck and Cole seemingly manifested behind her.  She did not startle but the Keeper did, eyeing the boy like a demon.

“You must come,” he grabbed her hand urgently.

“Cole, what's wrong?”

“Wisdom.  Forcefully pulled from the Fade.  She is sure to be bound.  I must save her,” he replied in Solas’s cadence and then moved back to his own.  “Solas’s friend could become a demon.  He needs your help.”

Paya looked toward Hawen.  “Thank you, Keeper, for your hospitality.  But I must be off.”

He stood there, stunned for a moment.  “Very well, da’len .”

Paya looked back to Cole.  “Take me there.”

They ran.  Paya used her Fade step every few steps to move them further across the plains.  Cole kept his hand tight over Paya’s.  They caught up to Alexander who trailed just a few meters behind Solas.  He explained briefly that a spirit of Wisdom had been torn away from them as they spoke to her in the Fade.

They caught up to Solas, then, who was stopped by Cassandra and Varric.

“What are you two doing here?”  Paya asked as they approached.

“Saw a group of mages pass through here,” Varric said.  “Alarms went off in my head so we wanted to investigate.”

“We found someone shot down by bandits, and then a scorched corpse on our way here,” Cassandra said.

Varric looked toward Solas, “I’ve seen a lot of death in my time.  It looked like the work of a demon.”

“No...” Solas half-whispered.  He took off once again.

“Solas!”  Paya ran after him first, and then the others came quickly behind.

Solas skid to a halt when he spotted the towering pride demon just ahead.  “My friend,” he uttered.

It stood within a ring of magic on the ground.  Four pillars were erected around it as a sort of binding agent. 

Paya caught up with him and took his hand.  “Solas is that…?”

“Yes,” he said.  His hand tightened around hers for dear life.

“Her purpose was twisted so greatly that she was disfigured…They must have forced it to fight for them,” she said softly.

Interrupting their discussion, a human mage cautiously approached.  Solas’s free hand went to his staff.

“A mage!”  the mage called, relief flooding his expression.  “You’re not with the bandits?”

“No,” Paya replied firmly.

“Do you have any lyrium potions?”  the mage asked, “Most of us are exhausted.  We’ve been fighting that demon.”

“You created that demon!” Solas barked, “Except it was a spirit of wisdom at the time!  You made it kill!”  He released Paya’s hand to shove a finger in the mage’s chest, “You twisted it against its purpose!”

The mage put his hands up defensively, “I understand how it could be confusing for someone who hasn’t dealt with demons before, but after we defeat it, I can--”

Solas’s shoulders drew back slightly and he lowered his head to glare at the man at his eye level.  “We are not here to help you ,” he growled.

Paya got between them. “Trust me, serah.  You do not need to explain how demons function to my friend here.”

“If you just let me explain!  I was one of the foremost experts in the Kirkwall circle!”

“Shut. Up.”  Solas spat.  “You summoned it.  To protect you from the bandits!”

The mage did not deny it.

“You bound it to obedience and then commanded it to kill!  That is when it turned!”

“Solas,” Alexander stepped up, “We need to destroy the summoning circle or else she… it will continue wreaking havoc.”

“I can disrupt the binding,” Paya said, then looked back to their non-magic friends.  “You three go for the pillars.  Solas will draw its attention and I’ll do what I can to undo the magic here.  Alexander, you can help them or play the role of distraction with Solas.”

“You can’t do that!  It’ll release the demon!” the mage begged.

“If you fear for your own safety then step aside and don’t get in our way,” Paya ordered.  

Just then, the demon let out a roar and the mage ducked behind Cassandra, who just shrugged him away.  The party ran forward and got to work disrupting the summoning circle.

Solas threw no attacks at the creature, simply throwing out barriers and other protection on it and the others.  He carefully circled about the demon, dodging away from its attacks like a rogue might.  Paya took part in a similar dance behind the demon, channeling magic in her palms to draw what magics lay there away from the circle.

The demon summoned forth an electrically imbued whip and threw it toward Solas, who was unable to dodge it in time.  He was struck to the back and fell to his knees.  Before the demon could do something more damaging, however, Cassandra toppled over the final pillar and it tumbled away from him with an agonized growl.

It dropped onto its knees and began to shrink.  As this occurred, Solas was quick to move to its aid, finally catching it as it fell forward into his arms, taking the form of a human woman.  Her flesh was an unnatural gray, like a corpse.  The shadows did not play on her features like they should any normal human’s.  A green light, like the rifts, escaped from her eyes, which were securely locked onto Solas’s.  She smiled, despite the pain, she must have been in, and touched his face.

“Lethallin, ir abelas,” Solas uttered to her.  The others watched on, but kept their distance either out of caution or because they knew the nature of Solas’s relationship with the spirit.

“Tel’abelas. Enasal.  Ir tel’him,” she replied, straining, “ Ma melava halani.  Mala suledin nadas.  Ma ghilana mir din’an.”

He closed his eyes and turned his face away from hers.  “Ma nuvenin, ” he said.  He moved his hand to her forehead, before passing it over her eyes like one would for the dead.  And then, with a slight beckoning gesture of his hand, she vanished from his arms.  “Dareth shiral…”

He lingered there for a moment, on his knees where his friend sat previously.  Paya knelt beside him and pushed her hand against his back like he’d done to her so many times. “What it said was right, Solas.  You helped it.”

He straightened his back.  “And now, I must endure.”

“Let me help,” she said.

He almost smiled despite the utter sorrow that subsumed his face.  Looking toward her, he replied, “You already have.”

“Solas, I’m sorry,” Alexander said.

Solas shook his head.  “You have no reason to be.”  With Paya’s aid for leverage, he stood.  “We gave her a moment’s peace before the end.  I am grateful that you were here.”  Then his calm demeanor dropped as he let his anger reemerge.  “All that remains,” he said, turning toward the Kirkwall mages, “Is them.”

The mage from before stepped forward.  He seemed to be their leader.  “Thank you for your help,” he said, “We wouldn’t have risked a summoning but the roads here are dangerous.”

“You!” Solas reached out and grabbed onto the mage’s collar, pulling him so that he was properly in his face. “Tortured and killed my friend !”

“We didn’t know it was just a spirit!  The- the book said it could help us!”  The other mages behind him began to back away.

Solas ignited a flame in his free hand and began to bring it near the mage’s face.

“Solas!”  Alexander’s voice halted him.  He didn’t turn to look but paused to listen. “She would not want you stooping to this level!”

Paya matched Alexander’s energy by taking a hold of Solas’s arm and pulling it away from the mage’s face.  He let the magic fizzle out and dropped both of his arms.  The mage backed off, and then he and his lackeys fled.

Solas took Paya in both of his arms.  Burying his brow into her hair, he just held onto her for several moments.  She rubbed small circles into his shoulder blades, letting him take his time.

“Let’s go, Seeker,” Varric said, quietly, so as not to disturb the pair.

Cassandra put her weapons away and turned.  “I agree.”

Cole took Alexander’s arm. "We should follow," he said, and gently guided him to follow Cassandra and Varric.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Alexander stood from his seat near the campfire when Paya arrived back at the camp.  “Where is he?” he asked, noticing Solas’s absence immediately.

“He will be meeting us back in Skyhold,” she replied.  “He wanted to remain here for a bit longer.”

“Will he be safe out there by himself?” he asked.

“I think so,” she replied, “He was wandering alone for his whole life before he joined the Inquisition.  And he knows he can come back to us at any time.”  As Alexander sat back down, she sat beside him.  “How are you holding up?”

He sighed.  “I’d only met her once before so it’s not as though we were horribly close,” he said, “But it really is a tragedy.  And I don’t think I’ve ever seen Solas in such a state.”

“Me neither.  He’s good at hiding in his head, usually.”

Alexander smiled.  “I think it’s good he’s got you around.  He’s not so wound up when he has you on the brain.”

Paya laughed lightly.  “Really?”

“Oh definitely,” he said, “Probably the only thing keeping him out of the Fade these days.”

Her cheeks and her ears turned pink and she smiled into the fire.  “I’m glad that you think he regards me so highly.”

“I don’t think, I know.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

For all of the spirits he considered guides in the Fade, it felt like a wasteland the night after she died.  Mourning was no easy task for him.  He’d instead seek out advice on how to handle the adversity.  A new spirit of wisdom would come to fill her place.  That was only some comfort.  The “Wisdom” he knew as his friend would never return.

He’d broken his composure.  It was only a fraction of the wrath he felt in his youth but nonetheless, anger was always ugly.

And somehow she still trusted him enough to let him walk away from her.  Over a week would pass before he returned to her and, still, she welcomed him back.

She still smiled.  With love.  Compassion.  She did not shame him for the glimpse into his darkness that he gave her.  She simply took his hand and took him back.  They danced to the music in their heads on her balcony.  She sang old Dalish tunes to him.  He began his painting of her.  Nothing changed between them.

He was hopelessly drawn to her.  His loneliness had been tied into impossible knots, anchoring him inside of his darkness.  But she had found a good pair of strong shears.

Chapter Text

The Skyhold washrooms were well hidden away, beneath the tower of the Inquisitor’s chambers, but all of the inner circle had access to them.  The Frostbacks had a number of frozen springs that fed these rooms.  A waterfall, directed to flow here through the ingenuity of the humans who had settled here ages before the Inquisition. Oils were tricky to get out but a touch of magic could chip it away with more ease.  

He was usually able to be alone here, to be with himself and his thoughts.  Alas, the washrooms were communal. Sometimes, he was interrupted by Warden Blackwall, Varric Tethras.  Sometimes he’d hurriedly finish cleaning as Josephine and Leliana stood just outside, waiting for their turn.  Sometimes, rarely, it was the Inquisitor’s own sibling interrupting his peace.

“Solas,” Khash acknowledged him.  

He nodded back.  Thankfully, he was only without his shirt when the boy entered.  They needn’t worry about scarring each other today.

“I’ve been meaning to speak with you,” the sibling continued, “You’re so good at avoiding me, so I’m going to grab your ear while I can.  Well, at least we’ll both be vulnerable.”  The child pulled their shirt off and bent into the rush of water coming from the ceiling.  Goosebumps pricked all the way down the spine.

He extended a hand into the flow and heated it gradually.

“Thank you,” Khash spoke begrudgingly.

“Now, what did you wish to speak with me about?” he asked, working a fingernail into a particularly tough spot of paint.

Khash leaned out of the water and worked their hands through their locks, “It’s about what happened in the Plains.”

“Go on?”

“Paya has too much faith to let you just run away like that.”

He eyed the boy carefully, “Shouldn’t that be something you discuss with her, da’len? ”

Their mouth flattened into a line as they bit back a retort.  Then, a puff of breath as they replied, “You shouldn’t have asked to stay behind in the first place, hahren.”

“Wouldn’t you prefer to be rid of me, Khash?”

The younger elf straightened their back. “You’re right,” they said, “But she’s attached to you now.  Whether or not I like it.  She trusts you more than anyone else in the Inquisition.  More than she should, in my opinion.” They gathered themself once more and sighed.  “I don’t-- none of us, really-- know anything about you.  And I doubt she knows much more.  You’re always wearing these… masks. And if you had honest intentions, that wouldn’t be necessary.”

“Sometimes masks are worn for the protection of others, da’len. ”

Khash began to wring water from their hair.  “I’ll pretend I agree for a moment.  What exactly are you protecting her from?”

“Would you believe any answer I gave?”

“Depends.”

“I’ve made many mistakes in my past.  I let my passion rule me.  I’ve watched many people fall and I’ve brought the end to just as many.  The fact I wish to keep that information private should not be a shock.”

“How much of that have you shared with Paya?”

He wrang out all of the water he could from his shirt before draping it over his arm.  “ Ir abelas, da’len , but that is not your business,” he replied before beginning to leave the washroom.

“I don’t expect your relationship to outlast the Inquisition,” Khash piped up just as he reached the door.  He slowly turned his head, just so his ear could catch the younger elf’s words.  “She’s the First of our clan.  She’s going to return to us when this ends. And I know you won’t follow.  You might accept her but you wouldn’t accept the rest of us.  I know you at least that well, Solas.”  

There was a long pause.  When he sensed that Khash had nothing left to say, he lifted his hand to push the door open.  

“Just…” he turned to look at Khash now, who continued when their eyes met, “Don’t make her regret whatever this is between you.  Even if you do leave her.”

“I hope that I will be able to do that much, should it come to that.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The Inquisition had found the base of operations for the Wardens -- a small fort overhanging one of the canyons in the Approach.  The heat of the desert was a stark shift from the chill of the Frostbacks.  The Western Approach had its own issue with bandits, and a large group of Venatori had also moved in.  This, on top of whatever schemes the Grey Wardens were subject to.  

While Paya and her chosen band of companions met with Hawke and Warden Alistair, Cullen would be leading a takeover of Griffon Wing Keep, an old Grey Warden fort that had been overtaken by the Venatori.

With herself, Paya brought Alexander, Blackwall, Varric, and Sera, leaving the rest of her friends to aid Cullen with the Keep.

“A lot on your mind, Solas?”  the Iron Bull inquired.  They were in an Inquisition camp with a clear view of the Keep.

“I suppose there is,” Solas replied.  He was standing at the edge of the camp, watching the Keep when Bull approached.

“You alright after what happened with that friend of yours?”

“Yes.  Thank you for your concern.”

“I’m almost surprised the boss left you with us,” Bull said, “I noticed there was tension with you and Khash.  Is it related?”

Solas shook his head, “No.  She simply believed my skills would be better utilized with this group.  With luck, she won’t be getting into battle.”

“You’re still worrying about her.  When you don’t think people are watching, you’re a book.”

Solas gave him a heavy sigh in confirmation, then a gentle, “Yes.”

“Don’t worry.  Even if things go wrong she’s got two world-famous heroes to back her up.”

The elf’s lips curved slightly into a smile as he turned his head toward the Qunari.  “I suppose that is also true.”

They stood there quietly for a moment.  Wind rustled a nearly barren tree and they could hear Cullen going over drills with a few warriors.

“Hey, why don’t we resume that game of chess?”  Bull asked.

“Knight to H4,” was all Solas said in response.

Bull let out a hearty chuckle, “Arishok to G5. So, you giving up the Tamassran at B5 or the Ben-Hassrath at H4?”

“Neither. Knight to F5.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Khash sat up in a battlement, watching the horizon as the sun began to make its descent for the night. His hair was thrown up into a braided bun, done by Paya before she left to meet with the Champion of Kirkwall and the Grey Warden Alistair.  His hand absently sat upon his stomach, where a sword had sliced him during the taking of the keep.  Solas was a good healer and the cut meant no risk to him now but now that the adrenaline of battle had faded, his mind wandered.

“There you are, elfy,” Sera’s voice called up to him from just below.  

He peered over and smiled.  “Any interesting new scars?”

“Nope,” she said, climbing up to join him.  She sat a small package in his lap before plopping down beside him.  “Egghead is too good at his job.”  Khash slowly pulled the package open.  It contained cookies.  “Eat one, elfy.”  The name she typically used as an insult had become more of a term of endearment for Khash.

Khash bit into one of the cookies.  It was dry, all too crumbly, and it tasted like the salt and sugar got mixed up in the baking process.  He finished what he had bitten out of and then sat the cookie on the side of him opposite to Sera.

“Awful, innit?”  she grinned, all too pleased with herself.

Khash laughed.  “Yeah.  Did you make it?”

She snorted, “Of course I did.  And now you’re laughing instead of thinking sad things.”

He folded the cookies back up and handed them back over to her.  “What are the others from your group up to?”

“Her Ladybits is speaking with her advisors.  Champion and Warden are there too.  We don’t get to rest long before we gotta run ‘cross the desert to catch up to the Wardens.”

“Is everyone going?”  Khash asked.

“Don’t know yet.  That’s what they’re prolly talkin’ ‘bout now, yeah?”

Khash began to get up. “Then we should probably head down.”

Just as Sera got up to her feet to meet him, a horn sounded below, summoning their forces.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

At the start of the battle, the Inquisitor's inner circle was spread out throughout the fortress.  Divide and conquer.  After leaving Cullen to lead his own group of soldiers, Paya joined her sibling and Warden Blackwall to scale the walls and cut down demons and mind-controlled Grey Wardens.  In the rush to find the Venatori blood mage Lord Erimond, or Warden-Commander Clarel, they bumped into Solas and Alexander, who were working with Warden Alistair.  And then, as they reached the center of the fortress, Cole and the Champion.

They entered a courtyard where Clarel was speaking to a group of Grey Wardens. She claimed betrayal.  Erimond stood at her side, goading her to fulfill his wishes.

Erimond noticed the Inquisition forces’ appearance.  “Stop them!  We must complete the ritual!”

“Stay back,” Paya spoke softly to her group.  She lowered her staff to approach the Wardens.  “I do not want to fight you!  Warden-Commander!  If you complete that ritual, you’ll be playing right into Erimond’s plans!”

“What plans?”  Erimond argued, “Ending the Blight?  Keeping the world safe from Darkspawn?  Who wouldn’t want that?  And yes, the ritual requires blood sacrifice.  Hate me for that if you must, but do not hate the Wardens for fulfilling their duty!”

Clarel joined Erimond, “We make the sacrifices no one else will.  Our warriors die proudly for a world that will never thank them!”

“And while you do that, Lord Erimond binds the mages to Corypheus!”  Alistair cried out in response.

“Corypheus?”  Clarel gave pause, “But he’s dead.”

Erimond stepped closer, speaking into her ear, “These people will say anything to shake your confidence, Clarel.”

After a pause for internal deliberation, Clarel called for the demon to be brought through with the blood of a warrior she had slain just before the Inquisitor’s arrival.  

A rift appeared in the center of the courtyard, Hawke pleaded with the Grey Wardens to decide differently, and Blackwall used his name to stir hope in the Wardens.  

“Fighting and dying here today won’t stop the Blight,” he said, “If you want to stop the Blight, kill that bastard up there!” gestured to Erimond, “His master is the living embodiment of its corruption!”

When Clarel hesitated, Erimond grew frustrated and tapped his staff on the ground.  As it tapped, it sparked with the light of red lyrium.

Corypheus’s dragon.  Or Archdemon.  It flew in from above and as it settled on one of the towers, Clarel made her decision and shot an arc of electricity into Erimond’s back.  He collapsed and pathetically attempted to order Clarel into obedience but she ignored him and went for the dragon.  The dragon took off again, flying circles around the fortress as it began to attack.  “Help the Inquisitor!”  Clarel ordered the wardens that remained.

It became a race of fleeing from the Archdemon and fighting demons that had been summoned by the Wardens.  Paya’s target was now Erimond.  His having control of the dragon was trouble best dealt with by vanquishing him.

When she relocated him, he was facing off with an enraged Clarel, on a platform that jutted out over the deep ravine the fortress had been built over.  Erimond was curled up and writhing at Clarel’s feet.

Before Paya could step in, the dragon suddenly dropped down directly behind Clarel and snatched her in its maw.  It thrashed her around before throwing her to the Inquisitor’s feet with a sickening thud.  Clarel was still alive but now seriously injured.

Hissing and growling, the dragon approached the Inquisitor.  A cooling sensation fell over her as Solas threw down a barrier. The rogues with her drew their blades and the Wardens their swords.  Hawke charged her staff with flames.  They were ready to face off with this dragon.  At the very least until they could find an opening for escape.  

Clarel crawled weakly toward them as the Dragon stepped over her.

“In war, victory,” she spoke.  The dragon’s head hung just above her, as she turned over onto her back, “In peace, vigilance…”  She lifted an arm as the dragon leaped toward the Inquisition.  The blast of fire and lightning knocked it off its course, over the party’s heads, and onto the platform behind them, and then it slid off as it failed to find footing.

Below, it was able to regain itself and soar upward to safety, but the platform began to crumble.  The weight of the dragon had destroyed whatever foundation there had been.  It fell quickly and the Inquisition could do nothing but try to outrun it.  Alistair was the first to fall.  Hawke, attempting to help him, went down next, and so on and so forth.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Everything happened so quickly.  Paya had acted without thinking, outstretching her hand downward as they all fell.  The rift opened with surprising ease but the energy exerted caused her to fall unconscious before making it through to the other side.

She was laying on her stomach with her cheek resting on the ground.  It was damp but solid.  If she flexed her fingers, however, they dug into the earth like sand.

Opening her eyes, she realized that she wasn’t in or around Adamant now.  The bits of ruined architecture around her were not from the fortress.  Sitting up, she could see the sky more clearly.  A thick overcast of green that hued her entire space in that same dull color.

She took a deep breath and then projected outward as far as she could. “Am I alone?”

“Here!”  Alexander was in front of her before she could see where he had come from.  He gave her a quick one-over for injuries.  She did the same.  Once they were both satisfied, they began to pace about the space they had landed in.

Just ahead, they spotted Alistair and Hawke picking themselves up on separate platforms.  Immediately, they noticed the lack of gravitational consistency.  Alistair was upside down and Hawke was perpendicular to their view.  Neither seemed thrown off-balance.  They were confused, but alarm had yet to set in.

“Where are we?” Khash emerged from behind a blackened boulder.  His hair had fallen part of the way out of Paya’s braid.

“Well.  This is unexpected.  We were falling, and now we’re not,” Alistair said, “But this doesn’t look like the bottom of the ravine.”

“Maker…” Hawke whispered, “Are we dead?”

“No,” Solas said, appearing nearby with Cole beside him.  “This is the Fade,”  his voice was trembling but awestruck.  He looked at Paya, eyes wide. “The Inquisitor opened a rift.  We came through…” he began to trail off, “And survived!”  His voice suddenly steadied, the voice of the scholar coming through now, “I never thought I would ever find myself here physically.”   He pointed outward, toward a silhouetted, dark fortress in the sky.  “Look.  The Black City.  Almost close enough to touch.”

“How exciting this must be for you, hahren ,” Khash approached, mocking in his tone.

Solas ignored Khash and turned toward the other rogue, “Cole.  How does it feel to be back home?” 

“No… no.. no… this is wrong,” Cole began to panic, stammering over his words, “I can’t be here! Not like this! Not like me!”  Paya moved over to Cole and took a hold of his hand.

Solas stood beside her and rested a hand on his shoulder.  “It’s alright, Cole.  We’ll make it right.”

“This place is wrong,” Cole said, “I made myself forget when I made myself real, but I-I know it wasn’t like this.”  His grip was iron in Paya’s, his already pale knuckles turning white.

Alistair turned in a circle, carefully.  “I’ve seen my father in the Fade.  I’ve seen a demon pretending to be my sister in the Fade.  But I've never seen this.”

“The times I’ve entered the Fade weren’t like this either,” Hawke agreed, “But perhaps it’s the fact we’re here physically, instead of just dreaming.”

Alexander stood beside the Inquisitor, “Seems you’ve performed yet another miracle, Paya.”  

“You walked out of the Fade at Haven, right?”  Hawke asked, “Was it like this?”

“I…” she looked around herself, “I still don’t remember.”

“Seems we need to find our way out of here, regardless, “ Alexander stated.

“In the real world, the rift the demons came through was nearby: in the main hall,” Alistair said, “Can we get out the same way?”

Paya glanced around the area until she spotted a glowing rift in the distance.  “We don’t have much other choice, I think.”

Chapter Text

Paya kept a hold of Cole’s hand as they walked.  Something to anchor him in place.  She walked at the head of the group, the other mages and Khash were in the center, and the Wardens took the rear.

“Solas, you mentioned domains when we were speaking with the spirit of Wisdom in the Exalted Plains,” Alexander said.

The elf’s gaze seemed to be on everything but the party.  But he replied, “What of it?”

“Could this be another spirit’s domain?” the Tevinter asked, “If so, how would we be able to tell?”

“Yes,” Solas confirmed, “There is a demon that seems to have control over this area.  It must be extremely powerful.  Some variety of fear, perhaps.”  He glanced around the group.  “We should all be wary of any manipulations it may attempt.  The Fade is shaped by intent and emotion.  If we remain focused, it will lead us to our desired destination.”

“Don’t get distracted by your studies,” Blackwall warned, “This is a dangerous place.”

“Yes, thank you for the warning.”

“You said the Fade is shaped by intent, right?”  Alistair asked, “Could you perhaps manifest a bridge to our destination?”

Alexander snorted.  “It’s not quite that simple.  We aren’t spirits, nor are we dreaming.  It will be more like an invisible force is guiding us.”

Just ahead, Paya suddenly tensed up as she spotted a woman dressed in Chantry robes–robes of the Divine, no less.  She was made speechless, slowly stepping toward the figure.  Solas moved to catch up with her and his hand met hers and his grip snapped her out of her stunned state.

Alistair stepped forward.  “What..?  That can’t be…”

“I greet you, Warden.  And you, Champion,”  the woman spoke slowly.

“Divine Justinia?”  Paya called.  “How are you here?  I thought you…”

“Don’t be fooled, Inquisitor,” Alistair warned, “Things in the Fade have a tendency to show up looking like people you know.  Demons mostly.”

“You think my survival impossible,” the woman continued, “Yet here, you stand alive in the Fade itself.  Proving my existence, either way, would require time we do not have.”

“Surely you can understand our concerns and explain what you are,” Hawke requested.

“I am here to help you,” the Divine replied, “You do not remember what happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, Inquisitor.”

Paya gave pause, “How would you know that I am the Inquisitor?  The real Divine would have no idea.”

“I know because I have examined memories like yours, stolen by the demon that serves Corypheus.  It is the memory you forget upon waking.  It feeds on memories of fear and darkness, growing fat upon the terror,” the Divine explained, “The false Calling that terrifies the Wardens into making such great mistakes?  Its work.”

“I’d like to have a few words with this Nightmare about that,” Alistair snarled.

She replied, “You will have your chance, brave Warden.  This place of darkness is its lair.”

“This is the demon Erimond was trying to bring through…?” Paya half asked.

“Yes.  When you entered the Fade at Haven, the demon took a part of you.  Before you do anything else, you must recover it.”  She gestured to an open area she was standing nearby, “You’ll find your memories here, Inquisitor.”

And so they began hunting for Paya’s memories.  It seemed that all had an audience to the flashbacks.  Paya herself seemed to be put off balance by the awakening of her memories but kept upright.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Someone! Help me!”  The Divine begged.  Corypheus had her locked in the blood ritual of a group of already-possessed Wardens, and was attempting to use her as some sort of key to unlock the power of his stolen, elven orb.

Paya barged in, her face painted with a justified rage typically uncommon for her, “What’s going on here!”

In his distraction, the Divine was able to knock the orb from Corypheus’s hand.  It rolled toward the elf, who ducked to pick it up.

As soon as she touched it, her arm felt as though it was lit ablaze.  On contact, the orb seemed to fuse to her palm and she could do nothing but stand there, writhing in pain.

“No!”  Corypehus lunged for her, and his attack sent them into the void.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“So that mark on your hand,” Alistair uttered, “It wasn’t sent by Andraste…  It came from that orb Croypheus was using.”

“Corypheus intended to use the orb to enter the Fade and throw open the doors of the Black City,” the Divine explained, “Not for the Old Gods, but for himself.  When you disrupted his plan, the Orb bestowed the Anchor upon you instead.”

After finishing her explanation, she moved forward to open up more of the path for them.

Hawke crossed her arms over her chest and lightly bit into the tip of her finger.  Her brow furrowed and she paced.  

“What’s wrong, Hawke?” Alistair asked.

She released her thumb and looked at him, “Those were Grey Wardens holding the Divine in that Vision.  It’s their actions that led to her death.”

“I assumed Corypheus took their minds,” Alistair replied, “You’ve seen it happen yourself.”  Hawke moved her hands to her hips, simply shaking her head.  He continued gently, “Come on, you can add it to the list of things to yell at the Wardens about when we get out of here.”

They began to walk again.  Paya’s companions spoke about the reality of whatever this Divine was, that was aiding them.  Solas had many words of wisdom behind it but she found herself unable to focus.  She was just aiming to get back what was lost and get out of the Fade.  She had never believed she was touched by Andraste and she had no doubt this Divine was an illusion of the Fade or some spiritual remnant of Justinia.  She was more troubled by what revelations that the visions of her memories might bring and what it would mean for those she traveled within that moment.

“It’s nothing like me,” Cole’s stuttering voice met her ears, bringing her out of her own head, “I make people forget to help them.  It eats their fears.  I-I don’t know if I could do that.  But I don’t.  I don’t want to.  That’s not me .”

“Peace, Cole,” Solas’s voice, “None of us mistake you for the Nightmare.  It is a fear demon, as I suspected.  Likely drawing on terrors relating to the Blight.  Fear is a very old, very strong feeling.  It predates love, pride, compassion.  Every emotion.  Save perhaps desire.  Be wary.  The nightmare will do anything in its power to weaken our resolve.”

“But after what it did to the Wardens?”  Alistair’s voice, “It’s going to learn to fear for itself .”

“Are you alright?”  Alexander drew Paya’s attention away from them.

She nodded, “Yes.  My head feels a little heavier but I’ll be alright..”

Khash moved to catch up with the two.  “Paya, we’re here to help if you need it.”

“I promise I’m fine, Khash,” she reassured him, “You don’t need to worry about me so much.  Even now.”

A few steps further, and suddenly, spider-like creatures, manifesting the fears of many, attacked them.  The four mages stayed toward the rear while the rogues and Wardens kept the small demons’ attentions.  They were small fears, easy to squash.  As they journeyed, every so often, more of these spiders, these fearlings, would attack them.  Quickly dealt with, but a nuisance nonetheless.

Eventually, they found more memories:

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

They were in the Fade now.  Paya and Justinia, fleeing from many more small Fears.  They had to scale some tower resembling that of the entrance to the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

Paya was weak from the sudden scarring of the mark on her hand and she struggled to climb.  Justinia extended a hand toward her, which she took firmly with her unmarred hand.

Once on her feet again, the pair began running toward the Breach that was open before them.  The original one from Haven.

The fearlings were quickly catching up to them, however.  One of the demons caught Justinia.  Paya did her damnedest to free her from its clutches.  They struggled for several seconds.  They would be overwhelmed if Paya didn’t move.

Justinia squeezed the elf’s hand, drawing her attention to her face.  “Go.”

“But what about–”

“Go,” she ordered, before releasing Paya’s hand and shoving her toward the rift.  Before Paya could react, the Divine was pulled forcefully back by the demons.

Breathless and terrified, Paya turned and ran through the rift as fast as she could.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“So it was you they saw,” Paya said softly.  “You’re who they saw standing in the Fade behind me.  And then you… she died.”

After a long pause, the Divine confirmed, “Yes.”

“Then this can’t be the Divine,” Alistair stated.

Hawke knocked on his shoulder, “I think we all said that.”

“I am sorry if I disappoint you,” the false Divine said.  Then she closed her eyes and the human visage began to fade away.  The form she took was that of a feminine silhouette, giving out a bright yellow glow.  Her feet lifted from the ground, no longer anchored to the illusion of the Divine.

“Are you a memory of her?”  Paya asked.

“If that is the story you wish to tell, it is not a bad one.”

Hawke stepped forward.  “Despite what she is, we know the mortal Divine perished at the hands of the Grey Wardens.

A stuttered laugh came out of Alistair.  “What– again?  We all know it wasn’t their fault!”  his voice cracked, and he sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anything.  “We can debate the depressing details when we get back to Adamant!”  

“Oh yes, that’s right,” she replied, “Adamant.  Where the Inquisition is facing an army of demons summoned, again by whom?  The Grey Wardens, remember?”

“So what are you--what are you saying?” he spat quickly, “Terrible actions are only justified when they’re your terrible actions?  You tore Kirkwall apart and started the mage rebellion!”

“To protect innocent mages!  Not madmen drunk on blood magic!”  she sighed, “Even without the influence of Corypheus, the Wardens go too far.  They need to be checked.”

“Agreed,” Solas stated.

Paya turned toward him.  “Do you really mean that, Solas?”

He continued, “The Wardens may have once served a greater good, but they are far too dangerous now.”

“The blood sings softly, it never stops, and then it’s all they hear,” Cole said steadily.  “We can’t let them hurt more people.”

“What are you saying?  You want to get rid of the Wardens?”  Blackwall chimed in, “Everyone makes mistakes!  They would’ve died to save us!”

“Look, they may have been under Corypheus’s influence, but the rest of Thedas might not care,” Alexander added.  “By all means redeem the Wardens, but that may be best done after we deal with everything.”

Paya sighed, “Please.  We can argue about this once we’re out of here.  We need to keep moving.”

Just as she finished speaking, the chittering of the fearlings came from behind her.

“Inquisitor..!”  Hawke alerted her.

The Divine spirit returned to them, bearing warning, “The Nightmare has found us,” and then she vanished.

All the others readied their weapons.  The Warden and the Champion came to stand behind the Inquisitor, ready to aid her.

“All together!”  Alistair called.

“I’m with you!”  Hawke said in response.

Clutching her staff in both hands, Paya straightened her back.  Fearlings were charging at them once again.

Paya dashed through the spiders with a fade step, coating about half in a layer of frost before emerging behind them.  Beneath them, Hawke created a small explosion of fire that sent many of them flying.  The few who managed to recover scattered around the group, trying to pick each member of the party off.  Small things are easier to overpower in most cases, however, and they were squashed.

Cole spoke when the last of them fell. “They still remember when they were higher; before it woke up and everything fell.”

They continued moving.  They still encountered a group of fearlings here and there.  A few wraiths and other small demons were about as well.  Small battles easily won.

More bothersome, was when the Nightmare began to speak with them, taunting each with their own fears.

“Perhaps I should be afraid?  Facing the most powerful members of the Inquisition?” the creature laughed darkly.  It spoke with a deep voice that reverberated throughout their space, “Like Blackwall.  Ah, there’s nothing like a Grey Warden.  And you are nothing like a Grey Warden.”

Blackwall growled low, “I’ll show you a Warden’s strength.  Beast.” 

“Keep going,” Paya advised.

And so they did.  As they moved, they found the remnants of dreamers and the memories of sad events.

A pilgrim came to the Temple of Sacred Ashes.  To help at the Conclave.  When the Breach appeared, they were buried beneath the mountain, trapped in darkness.  In order for them to pass to the Maker, they needed a light to guide them.  There was a table off to the side with a faintly glowing human figure sitting beside it, frozen in a state just before the pilgrim’s death.  There was a single, unlit candle on the table.

With a snap of his fingers, Alexander lit the candle with a spell.  The figment faded away.

Moving on, they were once again accosted by the Nightmare. “ Oh, Altus Marcellus.  A Tevinter, ahead of his own time.  You see this world.  A mirror of your own.  And you think you can use it to save them. Your knowledge will not help you. ”

Alexander simply rolled his shoulders back.  “That will only matter if I make it back in one piece.”

“You will,” Solas assured him.

Alexander smiled, “I appreciate that you’re so confident.”

“I have no reason not to be,” Solas replied, “You have the aid of some of Thedas’s most brilliant magicians.  Not to discount yourself , either.”

Paya stepped between them, linking her arms with either.  “Solas is right, Alexander.  It isn’t just confidence.  You are both capable of amazing things.”

Khash called for their attention then.  “Hey, look here!”  He had found another remnant of a dreamer.  A freeholder.  They had watched as the Blight destroyed their lands, their livestock, and their family.  They were poisoned by the Blight and blamed themself for the destruction of all that they loved.  They needed evidence that the Blight hadn’t taken everything–that the world still thrived.  There was an empty vase near the lingering spirit.

Searching the area, they found figments of the waking world.  A skeleton clutching a bouquet of flowers as it died.  In the Fade, these flowers were still full of life.

Khash did the honors of carefully arranging the bouquet despite the spirit not lingering long enough to see the product.

They took a moment of reprieve then.  Paya was applying a poultice to an injury Blackwall had taken to the back while Solas went around applying additional healing to those who needed it.  Hawke and Alistair kept watch for more spiders and other threats.

Chapter Text

“Little Khash, always the kid brother.”   The Nightmare demon now had a new target of torment–the Inquisitor’s younger sibling.  “ Laimemah asa'ma'lin.  Su solas y tel’dhrua?  Ga’ta?  You have already noticed the signs, brother, and she’s slipping from your grasp. ”

Khash stiffened at the Nightmare’s words.  Paya’s hand came to clasp onto his shoulder.  “I’m right here Khash.  I won’t be leaving you.”

He looked toward her.  “I know.”

“We found another dreamer,” Alistair called their attention up ahead.

They were a Grey Warden in life.  A talented warrior.  They met their end in the Deep Roads, there when they heard the Calling.  Toward the end of their life they grew fearful that all they had done until now was some preordained plan.  What they felt was a noble decision was something, they feared, they hadn’t been given a choice in.  What this dreamer wanted was to know that this was their decision.  That destiny had nothing to do with it.

There was a tarot card sitting on the table, in front of the skeleton that may have once been the dreaming warden.  

“Do you think this would work?”  Paya asked.  She plucked the card from its place and looked over it.  She didn’t recognize the design, other than that its face was that of the Tower.  

She handed it to Solas, who made the same examinations.  “Yes, it just might.”

They searched the immediate area and found a small fire with a cauldron upon it.  Some sort of potion appeared to be brewing within.  Solas lazily held his hand over the cauldron and let the tarot card slip out of his palm.  As the tarot met the liquid it hissed like water being tossed upon a hot surface.

The presence of the dreamer faded.

“ Dirth ma, harellan. Ma banal enasalin. Mar solas ena mar din, ” the demon spoke again, in Elvhen tongue, to Solas.

Solas’s face became stony and void of emotion, and he replied to the demon with a tight jaw, “Banal nadas.”

“Twice now he’s mentioned pride,” Khash made note.  They puffed up their chest slightly as they projected toward the sky, “Hey demon!  Get better material!  I’d think puns were beneath a fear demon!”

Solas’s hardened exterior softened a bit as he chuckled.  “Thank you, da’len .”

“Watch yourself, hahren ,” Khash was quick to respond, “This truce is simply because of a mutual enemy.”

“Oh I had no doubt,” Solas replied, looking more pleased than expected, “I’d expect nothing less.”

“Glad to see you all get along so well,” Hawke snickered, “It almost reminds me of home.”

Cole found their next dreamer, speaking their thoughts, “Haven is burned. Mama cries when I'm not looking. It's cold in the mountains, and my feet hurt, but Mama says to hush, that others have it worse.”

They had promises of the Maker’s blessing but felt it never came.  There were always monsters and they did not wish to have their mother crying.  A stuffed animal, a certain Ser Snort, would keep the monsters away.

Paya found Ser Snort, a surprisingly realistic but still plush Nug.  

“Kids are into some weird things,” Khash said, poking the felt creature’s belly.

Paya smiled softly, “I’ve never seen anything with such detailed craftsmanship.”

“Do the Dalish children even keep toys?”  Blackwall asked, sounding skeptical.

Khash replied, “Yes, actually.  Though rarely with the same sentiment that a human might.”  He began to laugh, “I remember Paya used to have this doll made out of leather scraps and sticks. She–”

“I destroyed it the first time I ever cast a spell,” she interrupted, smiling with nostalgia despite the otherwise sad tone of her voice.  It ended in a giggle, however, “I think Khash cried more than I did.”

“Fire is scary, Paya.”

“Oh, I agree.  Especially so when you didn’t know you could make it with your hands.”

“Is magic always such a sudden awakening for you here in the south?”  Alexander asked, genuinely curious.

“Not at all,” Hawke said.  She crossed her arms over her chest, “It may be because my father was an apostate, but we did regular checks until my magic woke.”

“What, did your parents just stop checking your brother for magic?”  Alistair asked as he tipped his head toward her.

“When he was about twelve, they did,” Hawke replied, “They explained it with something about magic potential being cut in half by puberty.”

“That isn’t always the case,” Solas added, “Sometimes magic becomes dormant and does not awaken until later in life, or at all.”

Hawke nodded, “I’ve seen that.  Helped someone just like that evade Kirkwall’s Chantry.”

They stopped in front of a child’s bed.  A figment of a spirit lay within, tucked beneath the covers.  Paya carefully placed the plush Nug next to the figment.

“You can sleep now.  There are no more monsters here,” Cole spoke softly.

Paya looked toward him and smiled.  “How are you feeling Cole?”

“I still feel…wrong.  Like my body knows it's not supposed to be here.  Not like this.  But your voices are helpful.  

“Are you afraid Cole?” the Nightmare suddenly interrupted, booming, “I can help you forget.” Paya moved closer to Cole and took his hand once again.  He squeezed hers gently. “Just like you help other people.  We’re so very much alike, you and I.”

“No,”  Cole said firmly.

“That’s right, Cole,” Alexander said.  “You’re nothing like this thing.”

“Let’s go,” Paya advised.  And they went.

They walked quietly now, keeping an eye out for other dreamers on their path.  It wasn’t their primary objective but Paya insisted they help as many as they could while they were there.

“Up ahead!”  Blackwall alerted.  A pair of pride demons stood in their path.

The mages kept a few feet back while the melee combatants took the head and Solas cast a barrier over the four at the front.  Cole and Blackwall focused on the one on the left while Alistair and Khash took the other on the right.  Like in other fights before, they found that the demons had a tough hide that would not be easy to get through.  They also recalled that ice magic helped to diminish this, making spots brittle enough to get blades through.  Before a blade met flesh, a flash of white spread over their intended targets.  They began to make quick work of the demons.

A sound like thunder cracked over their heads and Khash’s head shot upwards to find the source of the sound while the others stayed focused on the attack.

Alexander’s voice barked out, “Khash watch out!”

The younger elf’s head spun but he didn’t catch sight of the demon’s summoned whip in time to move out of the way or attempt to defend himself.  Solas didn’t catch it in time to get a barrier over him.  The whip coiled around Khash and his entire body stiffened as electrical currents pulsed through him.  Alistair cut the whip away from its owner and Khash fell away before collapsing.

Putting another barrier over everyone, Solas lunged forward and swung his staff at the demon.  As it connected with the demon’s wrist, a combination of a combustion spell and force magic created a small explosion at the end of his weapon.  The blast broke off enough of the demon’s hide that Alistair was able to rid it of its harmful hand.  Hawke joined Blackwall and Cole in close combat, copying Solas’s spell on their demon’s midsection.  Both demons were soon fading away, defeated.  

They stopped moving for the moment to see to Khash’s wounds.  He would live but the shock left him unconscious for the time being.  Solas sat down with the younger elf lying in his lap as he scanned him for more internal injuries and healing anything else he noticed.  Paya sat across, holding her sibling’s hand and rubbing circles into the back of it with her thumb.

“What do we do now?”  Blackwall asked, “We can’t exactly wait for him to wake up.  We’re working against time as is, aren’t we?”

“I’ll carry him,” Alistair volunteered.  “I didn’t bulk up just for the looks,” he chuckled.  Solas helped get Khash onto the Warden’s back and with any adjustments so they would not fall.

After checking everyone else for injuries, they continued on ahead, until finding another of the lost dreamers.  A scholar and one of the first Grey Wardens during that first Blight.  Whoever they were, they died before it was discovered how to slay archdemons.  To find peace, the dreamer needed to know that the Archdemon could be destroyed.

Searching the area carefully, they found what appeared to be a graveyard.  Except, instead of names of the long dead, the stones possessed the names of Paya and her inner circle.  The one bearing Alexander’s name, had the word “Helplessness” etched into its face.  Solas’s read “Dying Alone,” Sera’s “The Nothing.”   Paya stopped herself and turned her back toward the graveyard.  These were fears.  And now she felt that she had invaded their privacy.

“Ah, this should do it,” Alistair announced, “Hawke can you come take the kid?”

Hawke took Khash from Alistair’s back, maneuvering him onto her own, “What is it?”

Alistair ducked behind Blackwall’s stone and picked up a vial containing a dark, viscous liquid.  “Unmistakably, this is Darkspawn blood.”

“And that’s involved in destroying archdemons?” Hawke asked.  

Alistair tried his best to be vague in his explanation, as they walked back to the Dreamer.  “It’s involved in the process that gives Grey Wardens their ability to detect Darkspawn and the Archdemon.  It’s connected to how we can kill Archdemons without them coming back to life shortly after.”

He sat the vial on a table near the dreamer’s notes, and like all the rest, the figment of the dreamer faded away from them.  

And just like all the rest, the Nightmare spoke:

“Did the king’s bastard think he could prove himself?  It’s far too late for that, ”   it said, “Your whole life you’ve left everything in more capable hands.  The archdemon.  The throne of Ferelden.  Who will you hide behind now?”

“Is that all it’s got?”  Alistair puffed up his chest.  “I’ve heard worse than that from Morrigan,” he said, though his voice did waiver.  Hawke squeezed his shoulder as she traded Khash back over to him.  The weight of the elf on his back was itself some comfort.

“Did you think you mattered Hawke?” It immediately shot down Hawke, not allowing her to get away with pulling Alistair’s mind away from it, “ Did you think anything you ever did mattered?  You couldn’t even save your city.  How could you expect to strike down a god?”

“It’s a good thing I’m not the one striking down gods here then, yes?”  she replied.

“That babe of yours is going to die alongside her father.  Just like your family.  And everyone you ever cared about.”

She straightened her back out, lifting her chin in a haughty manner.  “Of course.  A fear demon would know where to hurt us the most.  We must ignore it the best we can.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

They found the spirit Divine once again, floating in a small corridor, patiently waiting for them.  Khash was still out cold and now passed onto Alexander.  Alexander was no combatant and could stay to the sidelines while the other fought, to better protect the unconscious one.

The spirit spoke urgently, “You must get through the rift, Inquisitor.  Get through and then slam it closed with all your strength!”  She began moving through the corridor and the party jogged to keep up with her.  “That will banish the army of demons. And exile this cursed creature to the farthest reaches of the Fade.”

As they reached the end of the corridor they could see the green glow of the rift.  Alistair graciously pointed it out.  And also the looming, spider-like monstrosity that stood guarding it.  In front of the giant spider monster was a more recognizable form of a fear demon.  The Nightmare.  It was a ghostly mage with the face of an arachnid and eight articulated appendages coming out of its back.  To exacerbate the matter, it had two bone-thin arms held open, as though welcoming them, eagerly waiting for them to make their move.

“That’s the demon…” Alexander exhaled, the statement half a question.  

“And we have to get past that to get out of here?” Blackwall, flabbergasted, blurted. 

Paya quickly spun around to observe the group, quickly doing a headcount.  “We can do this.  We’ve killed plenty of demons.  We cannot be afraid,” she attempted to hype them up.

The spirit Divine passed over the party, standing before the demons, “If you would, please tell Leliana, ‘I am sorry.  I failed you, too.’”

Energy radiated off of the spirit, pushing the party back a few steps.  She grew brighter as she neared the fear demon and Paya lifted her arm to block the glare.  

Then, she quickly turned back toward the party.  “Alexander, as soon as she distracts that demon, you need to run through the rift,” she ordered.

“What about you?” 

“You need to get Khash out of here,”  she replied,  “He can’t fight while unconscious.  We’ll be right behind you.”

He gave her a hard look before adjusting the elf on his back.  “On your signal, Inquisitor.”

As the spirit Divine pushed back the gigantic spider, she created an opening for Alexander to run.  There was a single burst of a near-blinding light, under which Paya cried out, “Now!”

The Tevinter dashed ahead, using a type of Fade Step to move a few meters ahead of his usual pace.  The smaller fear demon took a swipe at them as they passed, but Hawke threw a block of ice at it, drawing its attention back toward the bulk of the party.  Alexander disappeared through the rift and combat commenced.

Waves of magic were thrown at the Nightmare.  In retaliation, it called for the small fearlings to distract the combatants.  Blackwall and Alistair kept the spiders busy while the others cut away at the Nightmare.  

When it attempted to make its way toward the rift, after Alexander, Paya ran ahead and threw a wall of ice in front of it.  It swiped at her, knocking her off her feet.  She rolled across the ground a few feet before sweeping herself back up.  A twirl of her staff sent electricity arcing from its blade and into the demon’s chest.  

“You are nothing!”  The Nightmare bellowed.

Solas lifted the rubble of whatever ruins their current battlefield seemed to be in.  The force of his magic sent the rubble into the demon, knocking it off balance.  It dashed out of range as more spiders swarmed.  

When the demon recovered, it continued to taunt, “You will die in agony!”

Cole did as he had done in the battle at Caer Bronach.  He vanished from sight, only to reappear above or behind one of the fearlings, taking them out with precise cuts to weak points only he seemed to be able to identify.  He was a silent killer but kept his distance from the Nightmare itself.  When the first wave of spiders was dealt with, Blackwall and Alistair turned their attention back to the demon.  Getting close was dangerous but Blackwall had been outfitted with a good pair of armor and had been training to take heavy hits.  He swung a heavy mace at the demon, keeping its attention on him while the mages cast flashy and irritating spells, or Cole threw daggers, or Alistair tried to otherwise get at him.  Another wave of the fearlings came, this time with a pair of terror demons.

“You cannot stand against me!”   the Nightmare called again.

Hawke ran to the center of the spiders before stabbing her staff into the ground and holding her hands out in front of her.  Gradually, as if holding some heavy weight, she lifted her hands.  Red flames ignited in each, as a hellfire rained down around her.  Each ball of fire struck its very own fearling and terror.

They could almost hear the spit of its venom in its rage, “I grow fat on your fear!”

Alistair ran to the Nightmare.  Lifting his shield, he blocked a physical blow and swung from the cover at what would be the demon’s legs.  He hit his mark but the demon was resilient and it threw him back with a blast of what seemed to be force magic.  As he stumbled away, he spun to throw his shield at the creature, striking it in the neck and knocking it to the ground.  It lashed at him, throwing one of its limbs at him and piercing through the ribs of his gambeson.  He stumbled back and instinctively grabbed onto the tear.  Briefly pulling his hand away to observe, he saw blood smeared over his glove.  

“Well shit , that wasn’t planned for,” he grumbled before dashing out of the demon’s reach. 

Paya’s mark ignited in her palm and she held it out toward the Nightmare, creating a small rift just above its head that tore away at it with a strength that knocked even her onto her knees.

The Nightmare crumbled in stature, hissing at her.  For good measure, once regaining her balance, she stomped her foot, and a gravitational field formed beneath the demon.  The pull of both the field and the Rift kept it in place as it was pulled apart from both sides.

“To the rift!”  Paya called out to everyone.  

Everyone began to run.  They were weak, low on mana, and stumbling.  Paya kept to the back, throwing walls of ice up behind her to slow the demons’ pursuit.

As they got within meters of the rift, one of the limbs of the giant spider the Divine had been keeping off of them stomped down in front of them.  It stepped over them, in front of the rift.  The Warden, the Champion, and the Inquisitor all stood with each other as they tried to plan quickly.  “How do we get by?”  Alistair asked.

“Go,” Hawke said quickly, “I’ll cover you.”

Alistair held a hand out, “No!  You were right.  The Wardens caused this mess.  A Warden must–”

Hawke interrupted, “A Warden must help them rebuild!  That’s your job!  Corypheus is mine!”  She began to push him forward.

Paya nodded toward Blackwall, Cole, and Solas, “You go!”

“I will not leave your side,” Solas said.  Cole, however, grabbed Blackwall’s hand and began to run despite the man’s protests.

“Go!” she pushed Solas’s shoulder.

The demon swiped at them.  Solas threw up a wall of ice before it could hit. “Vhenan, please!” he begged.

Paya looked between Hawke and Alistair, who seemed to still be arguing over who would stay behind.  Hawke caught this and shoved Alistair toward them.  Solas caught the man.

Paya began to push the men again. “Go!”  

“Paya–” Alistair started.

“Alistair, you’re injured!  You aren’t going to be able to keep that thing off of us!”  Paya shouted.

He held his mouth firmly shut and then relented.

Hawke took hold of  Paya’s hand before she could follow, placing something into it and holding it tightly shut.  “Say goodbye to Varric for me, and make sure you get this to him,” was her final request.

As she ran toward the spider monstrosity, she called back, “I’ve got this handled!” and then, not directed toward the Inquisitor, but heard nonetheless, “I’m sorry, Fenris.”

As Paya pushed forward, catching up with Solas and Alistair, who she then began to push further ahead, she threw up a wall of ice behind herself – one last barrier between them and the monster Hawke was locked in combat with.  

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

As soon as they reached the other side of the rift, Paya sealed it.  And then, she finally glimpsed at the item Hawke had tucked into her hand.  A silver necklace chain with a crudely carved ring made of some type of animal bone on it.  The chain was snapped, a few connecting links having crumbled off on her palm.  She found a place for it in one of her pockets and then turned to address the Wardens whose eyes were now on her.

Chapter Text

Paya sat in her private quarters at Griffon Wing Keep.  After closing the rift, the demons had been vanquished, as the Divine spirit had said they would.  The Wardens were now amongst the Inquisition’s ranks and when meeting with her advisors, she revealed the truth of what happened in the Fade.  The public would know a more noble story but all of the inner circle knew that the restoration of the Inquisitor’s memories were not worth the cost.

Once the adrenaline had faded and the battle calmed, they realized that everyone’s injuries were more pronounced than previously thought.  The mages had various stages of mana exhaustion from migraines to just a slight pallor.  A makeshift infirmary in the lower levels of Griffon Wing Keep was holding Khash and Alistair, as well as others injured during the battle.  Alistair’s wounds were shallow but he had lost a good amount of blood and would need a few days before he could get back into the swing of things.  Khash was awake but Solas had advised they keep an eye on him due to the nature of his injury being the equivalent of being struck by lightning.

Paya hadn’t seen Solas since leaving Adamant, immediately swarmed by the official medical personnel and her advisors.  His scowling face appeared in her head as she traced along the rip of her teacup. Neither he nor Cole seemed to approve of the invitation she made to the Wardens and she hadn’t had a chance to argue with him about it.

She nearly spilled the hot beverage when a knock came on her door.

It was Alexander.  “Everyone who didn’t get a trip through the Fade is on their way back to Skyhold,” he said,  “Are you doing alright?”

“I could use some rest but my injuries were mild compared to Alistair’s.”

“May I come in?” he asked.

“Of course.”

Paya closed the notebook she was writing her report in and then pulled up a seat for Alexander.  Pouring some of her tea for him, she placed it in front of him before sitting it back down.

“Where did you get tea?” he asked, amusement in his voice.

“One of the merchants that set up shop on the bottom level had some,” she explained, “I can make fire with my hands and I felt like I needed something to… calm down.  There is a spring not far away. That’s where we’re getting water from now.”  She took a sip of her tea and leaned back in her chair.  Her eyes wandered the room before landing in a corner of one of the windows, behind Alexander’s ear.  

“The response to your decision tonight has been rather… mixed,” he said, shifting to the topic he had intended to discuss

Paya nodded, “I’d imagine so.  What are your thoughts on it?”

“I trust your judgment,” he replied, “You haven’t steered us wrong before.  And we need all the help we can get against Corypheus.”

She smiled.  “Thanks, Alexander.”

He returned the smile.  “Of course.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The events of Adamant shook everyone – not just those who had physically entered the Fade.  Paya spent a good amount of time sitting and talking with everyone individually.  Somewhere in everything the Inquisition had gone through, she allowed herself to be the one her friends vented to.  Talking with everyone else about their problems also provided its own distraction.  She had a lot to process after walking through the Fade.

A Chantry priest approached Paya at one point, demanding the council of Cassandra and Leliana as candidates for the next Divine.  The matter would have to wait for the vanquishing of Corypheus.  Paya would gladly support either, as they were loyal friends and allies.  Alistair was on his way to reunite with Warden Tabris and planned to deliver a letter to Hawke’s brother for Varric.

Khash recovered from his injuries quickly and had made the trip back to Skyhold on his own feet–or rather on the back of his own hart.  He still hadn’t processed what had happened in the Fade until they set foot in Skyhold’s grounds.  He cried, the sudden dawning hitting him like a boulder.  Sera took it onto herself to get him back to himself.  The expected reactions came from her other friends, and she did what she could to help around Skyhold for the time being.

Varric told a lot of stories about Hawke in the weeks following what happened at Adamant.  He didn’t show it, but the whole event had crushed him.  Paya only saw a glimpse when she went to speak with him later.  He spent a couple days writing letters to all of their old friends.  He seemed most concerned about a certain Fenris’s response to the whole thing.  He wasn’t the only one Hawke left behind, after all; she was a mother now.  Perhaps running headlong into the issues of the Grey Wardens was ill-advised in hindsight.

Paya did her best to comfort the dwarf.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Ah, Alexander, you are up,” Solas greeted Marcellus as the Tevinter exited the undercroft.  Solas was coming out of the Inquisitor’s tower across from him, carrying a crate with one of his sketchbooks balanced over top of it.  “Care to walk with me?”

“Might as well, we’re going the same way, after all.”

They passed through the small groups of guests in the main hall.  

“What were you up to with the blacksmith?”  Solas asked.  

The Tevinter pulled his sleeve back to show the elf where Dagna had stuck him with a needle.  “Our Arcanist was fascinated by our experience,” Marcellus said, letting the sleeve fall back into place.  “She wanted to examine me and run a few tests.  Didn’t she ask you?”

Solas chuckled, “No, but she has asked me to describe dreaming to her in the past.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met a dwarf quite like her,” Marcellus sighed.

“Neither have I, I believe.”

They weaved through a small crowd that had formed near the center of the hall.  Josephine was in the center, answering questions.  Nothing either of them caught, however.

“So how are you coping, Alexander?”  Solas asked another question as they neared the entrance to their rotunda.

Marcellus rolled his shoulders, “It’s not an experience I’d soon repeat, as thrilling as it was.  Have you and Paya spoken yet?”

“No,” he said, “I believe she thinks me more upset than I actually am.”

Marcellus chuckled, “You were rather vocal in your disapproval.”

The elf nodded, “Yes, of course.  I do not think it was wise to bring on the Wardens and I don’t believe I need to withhold my criticisms.  Typically she is receptive.”  They entered the rotunda and he sat his supplies on his makeshift desk in the center of the room.  He opened up a small box full of charcoal sticks and then set up his sketchbook.

“Maybe she needs a lighter hand right now.”

Solas sighed.  “Yes.  You are probably right, Alexander.”

“See you around, Solas.”

Marcellus ascended into the library then.  There, he found Paya having her own discussion with Dorian.  Something about a lack of reliable literature on the magisters.  Marcellus eavesdropped while he began to settle into his usual corner.

“You went into the Fade!  Physically went in !  Are you–” Dorian cut himself off, noticing he was speaking in increasing volume.  Once back to a normal level, he continued, “Are you alright?”

Marcellus glanced up from the book he had been pretending to read, something by a Brother Genitivi.  Paya had been wearing a stoic expression when he had approached but now the facade had fallen.  Her forehead creased between her brows and she parted her lips slightly.  She seemed particularly interested in a buckle on Dorian’s chest before lifting her eyes back up to address the man.  “We lost Hawke, Dorian..”

Dorian took a comforting hold of her shoulders.  “The Fade is an ordeal under normal circumstances,” and then he dropped his hands, “To be the only real thing there?  …Beyond description.  That you made it out at all is a miracle.”

After they wrapped up their conversation, with a hint of concern and a warning, Dorian let her go, where she then descended toward where Solas was working on his latest fresco.

Dorian turned toward him and put his hands on his hips.  “There’s the Genitivi piece I saw earlier.”

Marcellus marked his place and sat the book down.  “It doesn’t have the content I think you were looking for.”

Dorian took a seat beside him and crossed his arms.  “Are you alright, Alexander?  You were with the group that fell into the Abyss, too.”

“I’m doing better than you might think.”

“Well, then, I’m pleased.”  Dorian smiled.  “I’d love to give you all the same warnings I gave to our dear Inquisitor just now but a lot less of the Inquisition’s responsibilities lie on your shoulders.  Aside from that, you know just as well as I do the shame of being connected to Magisters like Corypheus.”

Marcellus sat back.  “I think what we managed to accomplish at Adamant will be a great aid to us in the near future.”

“More soldiers to throw at the enemy, hm?”

“You could look at it that way.”  They paused their discussion as Solas’s voice echoed from below.  

“I cannot believe the Grey Wardens could even conceive of such a plan!  To seek out these old gods deliberately!  In some bizarre attempt to preempt the blight–”

Both peered down just as his volume lowered.  Paya was standing close to him, gripping his hands, barely room enough for the Maker between them.  

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Thank you,” Solas spoke gently, “I forget that I can rely on you for support at times.  Even if we are disagreeing.”

“I simply disagree on the solution,” Paya explained, “Right now we need the help.  And I trust the Grey Wardens to act better under the Inquisition’s watch than I do with them wandering out of reach.”

He shook his head and pushed his forehead to hers.  “Those fools and duty...”  He held her for a moment before he let out a heavy sigh, then released her, and then returned to the small bucket he had been preparing his plaster in. “Responsibility is not expertise.  Action is not inherently superior to inaction,” he continued, venting his frustrations.

Paya tucked her arm under his and wrapped it behind his back.  She sat her head on his shoulder as best as she could and watched his hands.  “Fear is an instinct that saves but can also lead to irrational trains of thought.”

“Forgive me for my demeanor before, Vhenan.”

“Of course, Solas.”

“The entire idea… of what they were doing.  It is... Unnerving.”  His voice caught in his chest for a moment and then he relaxed against her.  Slowly she rubbed circles under his shoulder blades, “I know.”

He breathed a sigh and stepped away from her, approaching the bare wall in front of him.  Taking the palette knife he had been mixing the plaster with, he started creating his canvas.  

He spoke gently, “You may watch if you wish.”

Paya sat on the loveseat pushed up near the space he was working in.  The space became quiet except for the scraping of Solas’s knife and the sounds of the typical activity in the upper levels.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Interesting show down there?”

The Tevinters startled and quickly turned toward the voice.  Khash stood there, fully recovered already from his injuries at Adamant.  He wore his fancy tunic Vivienne had made for him and his hair was pulled loosely out of his face in a half up-half down style. 

“By the Maker, you’re loud as a shadow, Khash,” Dorian sighed in exasperation but also relief.

“Weren’t you busy hitting the Iron Bull with a stick?”  Alexander cocked a brow as he asked.

Khash shrugged.  “Stick broke.  Wanted to see if Dorian wanted to join us for drinks,” he said.  He grinned at Alexander, “You can join us, of course.”

“I’ll pass for now,” he replied, “I have some research I need to get to.”

Khash shrugged.  “Dorian?”

Dorian peered down at Paya and Solas once more, noticed they’d disappeared while their backs were turned, and then back to Khash.  “I could use a drink, I suppose.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The next day, Paya, Solas, Varric, and Cole were on the way to Redcliffe for some business regarding Cole’s status as a spirit, as well as with a woman Varric seemed particularly familiar with.  Skyhold was still rather lively; Josephine was working wonders speaking with the incoming nobles, Leliana had her spies immediately on attempting to pinpoint the enemy’s next move, and Cullen continued to train their soldiers.

Khash sat in Bull’s room above the Tavern, using the other’s thigh as a pillow while he read through some old intelligence.  In one hand the Qunari held the writings, while the other absent-mindedly played with Khash’s hair.  Dorian had stopped in earlier to inform them that he and Alexander would be doing further work with Gereon, but he’d be done before their plans for the night.

The intention of laying their head in the Bull’s lap was perhaps to get a nap in but Khash found their mind elsewhere.  Back home.  With people that looked like them--that weren’t peddling some higher religion that was largely responsible for the oppression of elves.  The words of the Nightmare flitted about in their mind as well.  You are going to lose your sister.  To pride or to doubt.   He didn’t quite understand it.  The Nightmare must’ve taken those words from his own mind but why was he afraid of those specifically?  Paya wasn’t an overly proud person–at least not to the point of sin, or however the Chantry regarded it.  And Khash had never considered the doubt she held.  Doubt in what?  Herself?  The clan?

“Something’s bothering you,” Bull’s voice interrupted their musings.

Khash chewed their lip a moment, watching Bull as he peered over the sheet in his hand with his singular eye.  He lifted his brow questioningly but not as an accusation.  They sat up and pivoted on their knees so they could face him fully.

“It’s about what happened in the Fade,” they said, “I know you weren’t very fond of what you were told so I didn’t want to bring it up.”

“Don’t worry, Kadan,” Bull said, “I got the jitters out of my system when you were hitting me with that stick yesterday.”

Khash then scooted to sit beside Bull so their hips were pressed together and leaned their head on his bicep.

“The Nightmare demon said a few things to try and shake us,” Khash began to explain, “It mentioned that I could lose my sister to pride or doubt… or both.  I’m trying to decipher where exactly it found that in my head,” They peered out of the corner of their eye to see Bull listening attentively. They continued, “Now that I say it out loud, ‘pride’ might be Solas. But even if I don’t like him I didn’t really think I’d lose her to him. I just think he’s more reckless than he likes to pretend to be and that’ll bring harm to her.  But… tel’dhrua .  Doubt.  A lack of faith.”  They shut their mouth as they broke the word down.  Wide eyes turned toward Bull.  “Is she losing faith in the Creators?  But she’s the First of our clan.”

“Sometimes being immersed in it is what opens your eyes to its flaws,” Bull said.

“There are flaws because our history was taken from us by the shemlen ,” Khash retorted.

Bull shrugged, “To my understanding, the Dalish losing faith isn’t terribly common.  So maybe everything that’s gone on as the Inquisitor played some role.”

Khash sat back against the Bull’s arm, moving their eyes across the room, as they processed their thoughts.  “I’ll talk to her.  When she gets back.”  

Chapter Text

She returned after a few days, Cole now even more spirit than human, and having been threatened by Varric’s ex-girlfriend.  

It was evening and the typical daily activity of Skyhold was already dying down.  Paya was putting her hart in the stable when Blackwall approached.

“Want a drink?  I’ve a hankering for some company,” he said.

“Of course,” she replied.

They walked to the tavern and found it somewhat empty, as it was before the usual night crowd would start showing.  Blackwall did the honors of ordering their drinks and they found a quiet space on the second level so they could have privacy should that crowd arrive.

They sat there silently for several minutes, Paya taking quiet sips of her beverage while Blackwall’s eyes took turns looking between Paya, his mug, and the wood grain of the table.  He didn’t touch his drink.

“Is there something the matter?” Paya asked, “I don’t believe we had the chance to speak much after Adamant.”

His gaze nailed itself to the table.  “When I was a boy, there were these urchins who roamed the streets near my father’s house,” he said suddenly.  Paya immediately shut her mouth, lowering her drink to put her full focus on him.  He continued.  “One day they found a dog.  A wretched little thing.  It came to them for food,” he said, “and they, in turn, tortured the poor thing.”  .  Finally, he turned to look Paya directly in the eyes.  “Do you know what I did?”

She remained silent, waiting for him to reply.

“I did nothing.  Not a damn thing,” he finished.  He didn’t break his stare even as he further detailed the scene, “And I turned around, went inside, and closed the door.  I could have told my father.  Or alerted someone.  I didn’t.  I just pretended it wasn’t happening.”

Paya looked into her mug for a moment, processing the information.  She and Blackwall weren’t terribly close.  She did know he and Khash were well acquainted, both spending a great deal of time in the stables together.  He also was good friends with Sera, to Paya’s knowledge.  She was surprised Blackwall would trust her with this sort of story.  

She slowly looked back toward him.  “You were just a boy, weren’t you?”

“I was old enough to know the dog was suffering and that it was wrong,” he retorted, “I may as well have tied the noose myself.”  She was finally relieved of his hard expression.  “We could make the world better.  It’s just easier to shut our eyes,” he said.

“I believe that the things worth doing are more often than not the hardest things to do,” she tried.

He finally relaxed–the first time he had since they had entered the tavern.  Paya hadn’t noticed the man was so tense before.  He let out a small chuckle. 

“Look at you.  You would’ve done the right thing, I’m certain of it,” he said, “We’re lucky there are people like you in the world.”  It was a genuine statement.  Paya wasn’t sure how to respond.  Having been there to physically witness the Divine in the Fade, she knew Blackwall would not give her the same reverence as a stranger seeing the Herald of Andraste in her might.  The fact he still placed her on such a high pedestal shocked her.  “There’s always some dog out there,” Blackwall continued, his eyes having found their place staring at his mug again, “Some fucking mongrel that doesn’t know how to stay away.”

“I don’t know if I would have done something,” Paya said, “Even if I would now, even children who know better can have lapses in their judgement.”

“I don’t mean to make you pity me,” Blackwall said.

She hesitantly placed a hand upon his forearm, some small attempt at a soothing gesture.  “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

He looked her in the eye again and nodded.  They continued to sit in silence, but now Blackwall welcomed his drink.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The next day, Paya sat with Solas in the gardens once again.  He was drawing again, but this time they were thumbnails for his rotunda murals.  Paya let him draw in peace, simply enjoying the presence of the elf beside her.

She had had a meeting with her advisors early that morning.  Corypheus had moved his forces to the Arbor Wilds, now on the defensive after the Inquisition had struck their blows in both Adamant and at the Winter Palace.

Now the question of why Corypehus was in the Wilds was being asked.  Leliana’s scouts had found his forces “ransacking elven ruins since Haven.”  What he was looking for, however, was still very much a mystery.

Morrigan seemed to have an answer, though:

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“What Corypheus seeks in those forgotten woods is as ancient as it is dangerous,” the witch said.

“That being?” Paya asked.

Morrigan motioned for her to follow her out of the war room.  “'Tis best if I show you…”

They weaved through Skyhold, avoiding its early morning crowd, and to the gardens.  Many of the old rooms that sat just off the gardens had been mostly delegated for shrines for the religious.  Most held places to pray to the Maker or Andraste, but there was one with a few small Dalish artifacts for the elves that joined the Inquisition’s ranks.

Morrigan led Paya to none of these particular alcoves, however. Instead, she led her to a room that had seemingly been left forgotten.

Within was a short hallway that came to a dead-end with a towering window.  Before this window was an arched frame, itself towering, draped with a heavy blue cloth.  Morrigan approached it and slowly pulled the fabric off of the frame, revealing a glimmering mirror beneath it.  

“This is an Eluvian,” Morrigan explained, “An elven artifact, from a time long before their empire was lost to human greed.  I restored this one at great cost.  But another lies within the Arbor Wilds.  That is what Corypheus seeks.”

Paya studied the surface of the mirror, the Eluvian.  It seemed less like the material found in a looking glass and more like a reflective pool.  The surface rippled subtly.  Within those ripples, Paya felt she caught glimpses of a space she had never seen before. Morrigan moved her hand over the mirror, inches away from the surface.  

“Is it dangerous to have it here?” Paya asked.

Morrigan pulled her hand away and crossed her arms, “If the darkspawn could breach these walls would he have not already come for you?”  She shook her head. “I found legends of an elven temple within the Arbor Wilds.  Untouched.  It proved too dangerous to approach, and thus I turned elsewhere to find my prize.”  After relaxing her arms, Morrigan looked back to Paya, “If Corypheus has turned southward, he could succeed where I failed.  The Eluvian would be his.”

“What would he be able to do with it?” Paya asked.

Morrigan made a sweeping gesture toward the mirror and it lit up in blue, obscuring all reflections.  “A more appropriate question would be, ‘Where would he go?’”  She gestured toward the mirror before stepping in.  Paya followed her.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

After Paya’s trip to the place the witch referred to as “the Crossroads,” she set Leliana’s and Cullen’s people on a path toward the Arbor Wilds to tail Corypheus’s forces.  With luck, they’d find the darkspawn’s goal before he did.

Paya described the Eluvian to Solas, knowing his concerns of Corypheus’s abuse of other elven artifacts.  He was fascinated by the mirror and they spent a good amount of time with it so he could study it.  Morrigan explained that most of them were closed off and could only be opened with some sort of key–a phrase, a spell, knowledge, power:  it depended on which door one wanted to enter.  

Once satisfied, Solas seemed inspired. And now they were in the gardens.  She sat her head upon his shoulder to see what he was etching.  He turned his head toward her and she saw the hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. 

She decided to ask, “Do you prefer this style or the realistic style you did for the portrait?”

“I wouldn’t say I have a preference,” he responded casually, “I do the murals like this simply because it is better suited for the material.  I do not need to fear as many mistakes.”

She moved her hand down his arm before twining her fingers with his.  She heard a quiet chuckle leave him as he sat his charcoal down.  He pulled out of her grip and took her face between his hands, smearing charcoal over her cheekbones as he kissed her.  She giggled into the kiss, holding his wrists as she returned it.  

He broke the kiss before he got too heated by it, but continued to hold her, studying her face as though he had never seen it before.  The crinkles at the corners of his eyes flattened as his face became more neutral.  “Ar lath ma,” he half-whispered.

“Solas?”

He let go of her face and grabbed a cloth he had nearby and turned it to her face.  “I have just remembered that I promised to speak with Alexander again.  We have recently found a formula that may succeed at sending him back to his own time.”

“Oh, alright,” she nuzzled into the cloth as it sat over his palm.  

The smile came back to his face and he kissed her forehead.  “We may resume that,” he brushed his thumb under her lip, “in a more private setting later, if you’d like,” he teased.  Her cheeks flushed pink and she nodded.

Gathering up his art supplies, he left.

As Paya re-entered the main hall from the garden, Varric stopped her.

“There you are, Daffodil!  I’ve been looking all over for you!” he said, a bit of a bounce in his demeanor, “You’re just in time.  We almost had to start without you!”

“Start what?” Paya asked, confused.

He motioned her to follow, “Wicked Grace!”

Then she remembered.  Earlier he’d approached her about gathering for a game tonight.  “Oh yes, of course!  Lead the way, Varric.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Space had been reserved in the center of the tavern for the game.  The inner circle would be unbothered for their game, but Cabot remained available and drinks were kept flowing.

Paya was surprised at how many people Varric had convinced to join them.  A large table was almost fully occupied, save a pair of open seats.  Alexander and Solas were absent of course, and additionally, so were Leliana and Vivienne.  Everyone else was here though.  Varric gestured for her to sit between Josephine and Cole, and he took his seat across from her.  

He passed a drink over to her before speaking, “Now that everyone’s here, let’s begin!”  

Josephine dealt, and bets were placed.  Drinks were had and stories were told.

“The poor recruit,” Cullen was speaking, in the middle of his own tale, “ran out into the dining hall in nothing but his knickers!  And this… profound silence fell over the hall as seventy mages and thirty templars all turned to stare at once.  Then, a slow round of applause began.  And spread until every soul was on their feet.  A standing ovation”

Josephine snorted over her cards, “What did he do?”

“Saluted, turned on his heel, and marched out like he was in full armor.”

The table erupted with laughter.

“That’s how you know it’s true!  I could never put it in a book,” Varric said, “Too unlikely.”

Paya grinned and leaned on her elbows.  Her cheeks had gone pink from the drink but she was still speaking clearly.  “I think it’s our professional storyteller's turn to tell one,” she said.

Varric smirked, “I think I can manage that.  Did I ever tell you about the time we broke into Chateau Haine?”

The game went on and pockets began to run empty.

“And the dealer takes everything.  I win again,” Josephine pulled her winnings toward herself, absolutely pleased.

Cullen gently tapped the table with his fist.  “Deal again,” he demanded, “I’ve figured out your tells, Lady Ambassador.”

“Commander!”  Josephine retorted, “Everyone knows a lady has no tells.”

He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms.  “Then let’s see if your good fortune lasts one more hand.”

Paya held her hands up, admitting defeat, “I’m not going to lose any more coin to Josephine but I do want to see this.”

Only a few others partook this time.  And then fewer the next time.  And soon it was just Cullen betting the clothes off his back, unwilling to accept defeat.

He was defeated.

Stripped of everything on his person, Cullen sat down in shame between Varric and Blackwall.

Cullen glowered, “Don’t say a word, dwarf.”

“I tried to warn you, Curly!”  Varric laughed.

Josephine smirked and leaned over the table tauntingly, “Never bet against an Antivan, Commander.”

“It comes off!” Cole exclaimed excitedly, “I didn’t know it came off!”

Cassandra promptly decided to dismiss herself, not wishing to witness the Commander’s walk of shame.  And soon the others began to follow.  

Paya stood steadily, but as she started walking, she stumbled.  

“Here, let me walk you, Daffodil” Varric chuckled, immediately moving to steady her.

She smiled at him and patted his shoulders, “Appreciated.  Tonight was fun.”

He chuckled, “Good, I’m glad!  It was a good reminder that you’re not just the Inquisitor.”

The mountain air was cool and sobering outside of the tavern.  The sun had long set and the night was clear, stars glittering above them.  Paya leaned into the dwarf to look at the sky, and he kept her steady.    “You know,” words tumbled from her lips, “Solas told me about the…const–uh… constellations once.  Aren’t they beautiful?”

Varric said, withholding laughter at her attempts to hide her slurred speech, “They sure are, Daffodil.” He craned slightly to look at her.  She had a big stupid grin and flushed cheeks.  The night was glitter reflected in her eyes.  “It’s easy to forget you’re not a symbol or an icon,” he said suddenly, “Like one of those statues of Andraste holding the bowls of fire.”  Paya turned her attention back to him.  “At least for me it is,” he added.  He grinned up at her, steadying another stumble.  “Let’s get you to bed, Daffodil.”

She nodded, “Yes, that’s a good idea.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

He recalled Varric asking around for her friends to join him for Wicked Grace that night.  The invitation had been spared for himself but he would not have likely participated tonight anyway.  He spent time trying to find space tonight.  He knew now how he would show the Inquisitor what she meant to him.  A truth that may hurt her deeply, but one he hoped that, by now, she’d accept.

All that he was left with now was the manner in which he’d tell her.  And the location was something he felt would be significant in aiding her understanding.

The Fade was too safe.  He could run too easily should fear anchor him in stagnancy.  Yet, at the same time, it was too dangerous.  If she grew emotional during his confessions, it would draw demons directly to them.  So, a physical location was the clear solution.  Certain locations were too obvious.  Too blunt.  He had some tact, even now.  He did utilize the Fade to search, though.

There was a location in Crestwood he remembered.  A peaceful location, once.  He may need to go on ahead to clear out a few beasts first.  There was also a private place in the Emerald Graves he thought may be effective.  Or even one of the ruins in the Exalted Plains.

Final decisions would have to be made later, though.  He spotted Varric walking with her as he exited the rotunda.  She was unsteady, and even from here in the dim glow of candles overhead he could see the pink in her ears.  

Chapter Text

It was raining heavily when they arrived in the royal city.  It hadn’t let up by the time they located gallows either.  A crowd had formed ahead of it, hurling expletives and celebrating the punishment of this supposed criminal.

“Ah, human justice,” Solas commented on their approach.

The morning after Wicked Grace, Khash came to Paya with a letter, written by Blackwall, and left in the stable.  

Inquisitor,

You've been a friend and an inspiration. You've given me the wisdom to know right from wrong and, more importantly, the courage to uphold the former.

It's been my honor to serve you.

He was gone.  After leaving her tower to confirm, a messenger came with another note for her. Blackwall had gone to Val Royeaux.  A man was scheduled to hang soon for the crimes ordered of him by a certain Thom Rainier.  Blackwall’s connection to this man was unclear.  Hopefully, they’d find out soon.

And as this man, Lieutenant Cyril Mornay, was about to hang in the Summer Bazaar, for the murders of a general, his wife, their four children, and all who were with them at the time, Blackwall interrupted.

Thunder rolled overhead before he projected over the crowd, “This man is innocent of the crimes laid before him!  Orders were given, and he followed them like any good soldier!  He should not die for that mistake!”

“Then find me the man who gave the order!” the man overseeing the execution demanded.

“Blackwall!” Paya called out.

“No,” he interrupted, “I am not Blackwall.  I never was Blackwall.  Warden Blackwall is dead, and has been for years.”  He let his shame show clearly, hanging his head, “I assumed his name to hide, like a coward, from who I really am.”

Mornay stared at the man in astonishment.  “You.  After all this time…”

“It’s over.  I’m done hiding.”  This man known as Blackwall straightened his back and addressed the crowd again. “I gave the order.  The crime is mine.  I am Thom Rainier.”

The crowd gasped as Rainier was seized and taken away.  

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Paya entered the prison with Cullen, who waited with the guard while the Inquisitor spoke with Rainier.  Thankfully, he wasn’t responsible for the real Blackwall’s death– darkspawn were. 

“I took his name to stop the world from losing a good man,” Rainier explained, “But a good man–the man he was–wouldn’t have let another die in his place.”

Paya crouched in front of the bars to be level with the man in front of her, who sat wallowing in his cell. “What you’ve done today took courage,” she said calmly.

“ Courage? ” Rainier spat, “I killed innocent people!  Destroyed Mornay’s life and the lives of others like him.  One moment of courage will not make up for that.”  

She sat back on her heels and stared at him for a while.  She was silent, unable to find the proper words.

Rainier broke the silence, “Why are you here?”

“I needed you to know you aren’t alone in this,” Paya replied.

Rainier finally stood, and Paya did as well to meet him.  Grief-stricken, he grabbed onto the bars of his cell.  

“Don’t you understand?” he pleaded, “I gave the order to kill Lord Callier, his entourage, and I lied to my men about what they were doing!”  He slumped forward, pressing his forehead to the bar to look Paya in her eyes. “When it came to light, I ran .  Those men, my men , paid for my treason while I was pretending to be a better man!” his tone was bitter and loathsome, completely shamed.  “This is what I am,” he concluded, slowly sinking to his knees as he spoke, “A murderer, a traitor,” he exhaled, “a monster.”

“Monsters don’t give themselves up,” Paya said, kneeling at his level again.  “You may have been using another’s name but you’re on the right path to becoming what you admired in him.”

He simply sat there, head kept low.

After giving him some time to process, Paya rose to her feet and met with Cullen again.

“Can you get him home to us?”  she asked him.

He nodded, “Yes but we must move quickly.  We can explore our options more back at Skyhold.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

A week had passed.  Thom Rainier was given his freedom to atone as himself.  He requested, when asked privately, to continue going by Blackwall–it was familiar and would avoid confusion.  Many of Paya’s inner circle had lost faith in him but others seemed to regard him with understanding.  Sera forgave him quickly, much to others’ chagrin.  If Paya looked outside at the right time, she’d also see Khash still making their usual visits to him in the stable, though they seemed to be briefer.

Paya and Cullen had been in talks about finding a way to destroy the protective armor that Corypheus’s general, Samson, wore.  It would greatly aid in ridding Corypheus of perhaps his most important ally.  Cullen was able to find his camp, located in a shrine to the Old God Dumat. There was a Tranquil there, named Maddox, who Samson had saved from Kirkwall’s Circle.  He had created the armor and would be located there.

The Inquisitor took a small group with her:  Cullen, the Iron Bull, Cole, and Cassandra.  

The place had already been sacked by the time they arrived.  They pushed through the camp, wiping out red templars and their abominations and monstrosities as they went.  They gathered anything they could use for information and kept an eye out for Samson’s Tranquil.

When they found Maddox, he had poisoned himself so that he could not be turned against Samson.  Paya used her minimal healing magic to relieve the pain he was in, but it was too late for anything else to be done for him.

After easing him into passing, they scoured what remained of the templar’s or Maddox’s materials.  They found the tools that had been used to create the armor.  

Without much else to obtain, they hurried back to Skyhold.  They hoped perhaps Dagna could reverse engineer the process with the research she had already performed and use these implements to break that process down.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Once back in Skyhold, Cullen went straight to Dagna, who went to work crafting the tool to destroy Samson’s armor immediately.  The Inquisitor ordered that Cullen’s soldiers begin being put through drills.  Vivienne and Dorian began instructing the Inquisition’s mages for combat as well.  As soon as Dagna was done with her work, they would be headed to the Arbor Wilds.

Paya stood up in her tower, watching the horizon as if it would tell her what they would find.  The Eluvian Corypheus was after was within some ancient elvhen ruin deep within the Wilds.  It had been hidden away for ages, perhaps since the fall of Arlathan.  The Inquisition wasn’t a force to scoff at, but smaller bands had been known to go missing in these Wilds.  Any history the Wilds hid had yet to escape its dense forests..  It could have answers that Paya had been searching for since she had begun her apprenticeship under Keeper Deshanna.  She believed in the Creators, at least that they existed, but something had always felt off to her about the history the Dalish had given her.  Too many inconsistencies.  Too many gaps in the story.  There was so much her people were certain of but not with enough information, she believed, to back it up.

“You’ve been up here for quite a while, Vhenan.”

She jumped and quickly turned to see Solas padding out toward her.  A wave of relief fell over her, surprising her in its intensity

He stepped beside her and folded his hands behind his back.  “You must have much on your mind,” he said.

“I do,” she replied.  She folded her arms beneath her chest as she resumed her sky gazing.  “I suppose I’m afraid of what we’ll find at the Eluvian.”

“Is it something specific or just general anxiety?”  he asked.

“I’m sure there won’t be anything earth-shattering, but I…” she trailed off, “I don’t know what I might learn.  And that mystery is unsettling.”  

“It has the potential to give you the answers you seek or perhaps give you more questions,” Solas replied.

“Yes, exactly,” she said.  Releasing a sigh, she leaned against the balcony railing and began watching the activity in the courtyard below.  “I fear that what I learn there will make returning to my clan… more difficult.  Khash and I spoke about my standing as the Keeper once Deshanna steps down, and I already know that if I return, I can’t take up that role anymore.  Not after everything that’s happened since the Conclave.”  She sighed and sat up.  She took a moment to stew in her thoughts and decide what was bothering her. “You’ve asked me before if this mark changed me,” she said, “My answer is still no, but this journey–everything we’ve been through– has.” She felt his hand warm the place between her shoulder blades.

Then he waited until she looked at him before speaking.  “Would you like to enter the Fade with me?”

Her eyes went wide for a moment.  “I would,” she replied, grateful that he decided to switch the topic for her.

He offered his other hand to her, and she took it.  Then, he guided her into the bed chamber and instructed her to lay on the bed.  He leaned over and kissed her forehead before he walked around to the other side of the bed to lay beside her.  

She turned her head toward him and he returned her glance with a smile.  She was alight with childlike glee, “I don’t remember what happened last time, so what do I need to do?  Do I need to lay a certain way, or..?”

He turned over and pulled her into his arms.  “The only thing required of you, my heart, is to sleep .”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

She opened her eyes and found herself sitting against a tree in an old wood.  Beside her stood a pair of legs wrapped in leather strips, toes exposed.  She looked up to him, pleasantly smiling down at her.

“I hope it is alright that I took a peek into your memories to find this place,” he offered a hand to her, which she took, and pulled her to her feet.

“That’s more than alright,” she replied, “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Only if the memory is vivid.  And only from the Fade.  You spent much time here.”

She held onto his arm and they walked through the woods side-by-side.  The sun came through the canopy above in warm speckles and the air smelled fresh and clean.  It was cool, but not cold.  Every so often, she’d extend her free hand to brush it over the bark of a tree, or simply to watch the sun passing over her fingers.  Birds chirped just out of reach.  She paid special attention to the crunch of old leaves beneath their feet and the sound of some creature–a fennec or a squirrel, perhaps–skittering nearby.  

“I did,” she said, “but not since I was a child.  Once my studies as the First began, I didn’t have as much time for leisure.”  

“While I understand, it is a shame that was the case,” he said, “This is a beautiful location.  It reminds me of my youth.” 

They stopped in front of a babbling brook and the Inquisitor bent down to trace over the shapes of light in the water.  He continued to stand beside her.  He was studying her again.  The curve of her back as she leaned forward to spread her hands out in the sand; the way loose strands of her pale hair fell forward and into her face.  Freckles danced about her shoulders like the light from the trees.  Even here she smelled of daffodils and honey.

He watched her for several moments.  Would now be the right time…?

“Vhenan.”

“Hm?” she lifted her head toward him.

He sat beside her and held his hand out for hers once again.  Settling into a cross-legged position, she wiped her hands off on her leggings and then took his hand.  He gave it a light squeeze before inhaling deeply.  “I was… trying to determine some way to show you what you mean to me,” he uttered.  He kept his gaze occupied with the movement of light on the water’s surface.

“I already know, Solas,” she replied.  He looked at her.  “You’ve done plenty enough by now to show me that.”

“Even so…” he trailed off.  

She squeezed his hand back.  “I love you, Solas”

He paused, caught by her words.  Said so casually, stating what was, to her, obvious.  

“What I wanted to say is–” he struggled with the proper phrasing.  Taking in a breath, he turned to face her fully.  She mirrored him and took both of his hands.  “Perhaps it may be better to tell you after we return from the Arbor Wilds.  I feel telling you now would be something of a goodbye confession, and while I doubt we’ll cross into that sort of danger, I’d rather not bring misfortune onto us.”

“I never took you for the superstitious type,” she teased, grinning.

He smiled back, hers infectious.  “I am usually not, but what you and I have created between us…I’d like not to risk dooming it.”

She nodded and pulled his hands up to kiss his knuckles. “Then we can wait.”

He unfolded his hands from her grasp and took a hold of her cheeks before leaning in to kiss her.  It was quick, but bled into her soul and, for a moment, she felt a glimpse of some darker emotion within him.  Nothing toward her; in fact, it felt directed inward.  She couldn’t truly place a word to it but there was some aspect of shame within it.

Once he released her, he pushed his forehead to hers.  Her hands took a hold of the fabric over his knees and she delicately pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose.  They sat quietly, studying each other’s faces and hands.

“ Ar lath ma, Vhenan ,” she said.

“Ar lath ma, Vhenan,” he replied.

Chapter Text

Everything was green and full of life.  And with the Red Templars and the Inquisition fighting here, death was creeping in.

Paya and her personal party, consisting of the Iron Bull, rogues Khash and Cole, and her mages Solas and Alexander, were preparing to make their way to the temple.  Morrigan would be joining them as well but was not yet with their small group.  

In tandem, Cullen and Josephine had commissioned Harritt and Dagna to create new armor for the Inquisition’s inner circle.  Overtop of her usual battle attire, she wore a golden robe infused with magic-resistant enchantments.  It was made from an expensive fabric Dorian had imported from Tevinter with the aid of one of his few contacts back home.  Beneath were her usual travel clothes, reinforced with a thin layer of leather. The old Elfroot pendant that Sera had given her had also been enchanted to boost her spell power, just a bit.

She had been given a tent for herself.  It was large enough to hold a small table, currently scattered with several potions and papers, her staff propped against it.  On the opposite side of the tent was her bed, leaving just enough room for a person or two to stand.

Solas entered through the front flap, the sound of battle outside momentarily followed him as he entered.    “Are you almost ready, Paya?” he asked.

“I am.  I just need to get my potions belt together.”

Solas stood beside her, helping her gather the potions and tucking them where she designated.  His new armor seemed in some part crafted by himself.  His ensemble consisted of a chainmail shirt thrown under a gray, woolen tunic.  The pants were made from ram’s leather and he wore open-toed boots.  Over top of everything was a hand-woven, long blue overcoat that sat at his thighs in the front, and just above his knees in the back.  He wore a metal shoulder guard on one arm and had a wolf pelt draped over the other shoulder.  If anything was enchanted, Paya hadn’t asked.  She did find him quite dashing, however.

“One more thing,” she said.  Reaching into a small lockbox she had nearby, she pulled out a small stone disk with a rune etched into it.  Dagna had created it for the express purpose of dismantling Samson’s armor.  She tucked it into a pocket of her belt and then took it from Solas.  She tied it around her hips and took his hand as they left the tent.  Khash was outside, talking with Bull.

Khash locked eyes with Solas for a moment and then waved to their sister.  “Alexander went to get Morrigan and Cole was speaking with one of the soldiers,” they informed her, “or… at , really.”

“Alright.  Anything that I need to be alerted of?”  Paya asked.

Bull replied,  “Nothing you didn’t know already, Boss.”

One of Cullen’s soldiers approached them.  “Inquisitor!”

Paya lifted her hand to excuse herself from the group.  “Report, Captain.”

“The templars fall beneath our blades, Your Worship,” she said, “Commander Cullen says they’re nearly finished.  Our scouts saw Corypheus traveling toward an elven ruin to the North.  We can clear you a path through his armies.”

Paya nodded.  “Hit them hard but don’t take unnecessary risks.”

The captain crossed her arm over her chest in a salute, “We will not fail you, my lady.  No matter what comes.” She bowed,  “Andraste guide you, Inquisitor,” and then departed.

Morrigan and Alexander approached.

“I wonder:  Is it Andraste your soldiers invoke during battle, or does a more immediate name come to their lips?” Morrigan questioned.  Her expression was subtle; one brow quirked and her mouth pursed only just.

Paya sighed and paced back toward Bull and Khash.  “And if they see me that way, that means I have more people to disappoint should we fail.  Thank you for reminding me, Morrigan.”

“‘Twas not I who raised an army of faithful to storm this land, Inquisitor,” she replied, “but I digress.”

They rejoined Solas, Khash, and Bull, who were now accompanied by Cole.  “There is an elven ruin to the North that Corypheus has been seen approaching,” Paya relayed, “We’ll be following a route laid out by our soldiers.”

“If your scouts report accurately,” Morrigan said, “I believe these ruins to be the Temple of Mythal.”

Khash, previously distracted with their conversation with Bull, turned their head at Morrigan’s words. Solas’s brow twitched before his face grew stony.

“I’ve read about that,” Alexander said, “Some scholars believe it doesn’t even exist.  This would be a monumental discovery if true.”

“This is a big thing then,” Bull inquired.

“A place of worship out of elven legend,” Morrigan said, “If Corypheus seeks it, then the Eluvian he covets lies within.”

In the distance, a series of explosions went off, drawing everyone’s attention.  Paya moved toward the path that had already been laid out for them.  “Then we should hurry.  Before they burn the whole forest down.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Cullen’s people had a good handle of the situation, and much of the path was already clear, save for a spare red templar still locked in combat with a soldier.  The Inquisitor’s party aided where they could but they kept on their way.  This region had many shallow rivers with tall waterfalls cascading from above scattered throughout.  Some of these rivers had the remnants of old ruins: bridges, aquifers, or so on; it was uncertain what the structures were but they were recognizable as elven.  These were, Paya thought to herself, the remnants of Arlathan.

As she stepped into the lukewarm waters, the cool sensation of one of Solas’s barriers dropped over her and an arrow whizzed by her head.  The Iron Bull and the two rogues charged ahead before she had time to pull her staff out.

She found the source of the arrow.  A Grey Warden, uniform and all, fell as Khash threw their shoulder into his chest.  Paya was quick to throw a spell, freezing a patch of water beneath the Warden.  The fall would do no serious damage, but landing on the solid ice knocked the wind from him.

The party scattered.  There were multiple Wardens– a small group of them.  They weren’t difficult targets but their presence left Paya with a sense of discomfort in her chest.

“It seems we didn’t save all of them,” she said, half to herself.

Bull stepped beside her and tapped her shoulder with the side of his hand, “That, or you’ve got another set of Wardens pissed at you somehow.”

“A most inglorious end.  Still, if these puppet wardens show no mercy, neither can we,”  Morrigan added.  She had thrown a few of her own spells in the fight but looked absolutely unbothered.

They continued, fighting red templars and the intermittent handful of wardens until they came upon a small camp.  It was nestled in a small corner with dense vegetation around it.  The Inquisitor’s party had been making their way around a larger battle as a sort of detour when they found it.

The templars were locked in combat.  Their enemies were not Inquisition soldiers, however.  They were elven, wearing sleek, golden armor that was snug to their forms.  They vanished from view, appearing behind foes to snuff them out.  It was not unlike Cole’s own maneuvers.  However, such movements should not have been possible for mortal beings to perform.

Khash dashed in first, blending in with the strangers, mirroring their movements as they, too, attacked the templars.  One-by-one, the rest of the party joined in.  With twice as many enemies to contend with, the templars were dealt with swiftly.  However, the fighting did not end, as the elves' blades were turned on the Inquisitor’s party.  Bull grabbed onto Paya’s belt, tugging her away from a dagger that was aimed for her throat.  While suspended in the air she kicked the offending elf in the chest, knocking him into a ward Morrigan had thrown onto the ground.

Once she was back on her feet behind Bull, she kicked up her staff and used the dirt that sprayed with it as cover for a Fade step, passing through two of the attackers.  With the ice that coated them holding them in place, Solas dropped fire at their feet, knocking them in separate directions.

And soon, they too were dead.

The party sat for a moment, catching their breaths as Solas made a few precautionary passes over everyone with healing magic.  

Alexander knelt beside one of the elven enemies, studying their features.  “That trick they did–disappearing into the shadows.  That felt like magic; It was different than how Cole does it.” 

Khash joined him in a crouched position.  “Those are Mythal’s vallaslin,” they said, “But I’ve never seen it designed quite like this.  Though I’ve hardly met every other Dalish clan.”

“It seems this Temple of Mythal is not deserted after all,” Solas added, standing behind Paya as he readjusted her belt for her.

“Let’s go,” Paya called, taking the lead as they continued moving ahead.

The same as before continued–sparse combat with the red templars, now with a few of those strange elves mixed in.  Soon, the temple came into view, its entrance guarded by a handful of stone statues.  Among them were a pair of large wolves, depicting Fen’Harel, flush against the wall.

Cullen was fighting alongside a few of his soldiers, taking down a small group of templars.

As Paya and her group passed, he gestured with his sword.  “We slowed them down, but he pushed through with several templars!”

She nodded toward him and picked up the pace.

They passed between the wolven statues, running through a tunnel that was clearly elven in architecture.  They came out onto an elevated platform, made from the same mossy stone as the tunnel.  Immediately they ducked behind a stone barrier, spotting Corypheus just below.

He was surrounded by a group of red templars, including Samson, and Grey Wardens.  In front of him were several figures in the same armor as the strange elves from outside of the temple.  They stood on a bridge that led into the temple itself, guarding against entry as the darkspawn stepped toward them.

The elf at the front of the group growled, “ Na melana sur, banallen !”

“They still think to fight us, Master,” Samson croaked, all too pleased as he cut down the elf.

Corypheus stepped forward, bellowing, “These are but remnants.  They will not keep us from the Well of Sorrows.”

Paya turned toward Morrigan, giving her a confused glance.  The witch simply shrugged.

The remaining elves stepped further back onto the bridge.  A light passed through the carvings of statues that stood at either side of the bridge.  Corypheus minded them for just a moment before returning his focus to monologuing.

“Be honored!  Witness death at the hands of a new god!”

As he stepped between the statues, light shot out from both of them.  The light seemingly took hold of Corypheus but he pressed on, grabbing onto the next front-most elf.  Energy flooded his entire form, and the air grew hot.  The flesh on the darkspawn’s face quickly crumbled away as the energy was released, blasting all near it back.

Paya and the group above held still for a moment.  Samson and a handful of the templars seemed to have escaped the blast unscathed, and they began to run across the bridge, over the unconscious or dead forms of the elves that had been previously blocking them.

Samson gave one last sneer behind himself before disappearing into the temple.

Paya and her party descended, in part to inspect the remaining bodies, and in another to catch up with the leader of Corypheus’s templars.  As they passed over the wardens, one suddenly cried out in pain.

Paya turned her head, “Solas!”

Instead of approaching the warden, he stepped away, holding his arm out to keep her from getting nearer, herself.

The Warden sat upon his knees, his pained cries becoming strained as a dark substance that stunk of blood spewed from him.  He began to contort as his form started to expand and change in shape.  

“It cannot be!” Morrigan blurted in horror.

The Grey Warden threw out one distorted, bloodied limb, as Corypheus’s own arm burst from his shoulder.

“Across the bridge!  Now!”  Paya called.  Without the need for persuasion, the others ran ahead.  She and Morrigan brought up the rear.  In a panic, Paya threw arbitrary walls of ice between them and the darkspawn.

As they ran, Corypheus’s dragon appeared, screeching above them.

“The door!”  Alexander called.  

All seven of them began to push a set of heavy doors that they had just passed through.  As it slammed shut, the force of the dragon ramming against them knocked them off their feet.  Luckily, some sort of magic had sealed the door, preventing the dragon from bursting through.

Without giving themselves room to catch their breaths, they picked themselves up and ran into the vestibule.  They only paused when presented with a dead end.

Morrigan let out a relieved sigh.  “At last,” she breathed, “Mythal’s sanctum.  Let us proceed before Corypheus interferes.”

The Iron Bull interrupted, “If he’s here for a mirror, why’d Corypheus say he wants a ‘Well of Sorrows’?”

“I… am uncertain what he refers to,” she replied.

“Is it possibly some sort of code?” Paya asked, “Could it be that they both refer to the same thing?”

Morrigan shook her head, “No.  It seems an Eluvian is not the prize Corypheus seeks…”

Paya sighed and began to walk ahead.  “Let’s find this well before Corypheus’s people do.”  

Walking forward, they entered a small courtyard overgrown with moss and ivy.

“That display Corypheus put on for us was quite concerning,” Paya started, the strange calmness of the space allowing her to contemplate what they had just witnessed.

“It seems the lifeforce passes on to any blighted creature:  Darkspawn or Grey Warden,” Morrigan said.

“Then Corypheus cannot die,” Solas added, sounding as if he had just realized something, “Destroy his body, and he will assume another.”

Paya brushed her hand against his, before taking a firm hold of it.  “There must be a way to stop him.  We’ll be able to find it once we’re out of here.”

“'Tis strange,” Morrigan said, “Archdemons possess the same ability, and still the Grey Wardens are able to slay them .”  She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted one to bite at her thumbnail.  “And yet Corypheus , they locked away.  Perhaps they knew he could do this…but not how.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Toward the front of the courtyard was another statue of Fen’Harel, watching over the sanctum.  Morrigan approached it, her face perplexed.

“Is something wrong, Morrigan?” Paya asked.

“This is a depiction of the Dread Wolf.  Fen’Harel,” Morrigan explained.  “In elven tales, he tricks their gods into sealing themselves away in the Beyond for all time.”  She crossed her arms.  “Setting Fen’harel in Mythal’s greatest sanctum is as blasphemous as painting Andraste naked in the chantry.”

“Well, Lady Morrigan, the elves are not so simple,” Khash interrupted.  “The clans set statues of the Dread Wolf outside their camps to ward off demons.”  

“Perhaps… I thought the ancient elves were above quaint superstitions,” Morrigan added.

Solas, still holding onto Paya’s hand, added his piece, “For all your ‘knowledge,’ Lady Morrigan, you cannot resist giving legend the weight of history.  The wise do not mistake one for the other.”

Morrigan sneered at him, “Pray tell, what meaning does our elven ‘expert’ sense lurking behind this?”

“None we can discern by staring at it,” he replied, turning his nose up slowly as he narrowed his eyes toward the woman.

“Once we eject the red templars from this region,” Paya said, “We can send for historians.”

Alexander stepped forward, “I have a friend who studies the ancient Elvhen.  He would die to come here.”

“The inhabitants of this temple may not appreciate guests,” Solas stated.

They left the statue alone and continued to search the courtyard.  In the center was an elevated platform with several mosaic tiles surrounding another platform within that held two stone pillars.  The pillars had the elvhen language etched into them.  Paya and Morrigan approached it together; the tile beneath them lit up in blue light.

“It appears the temple’s magicks are still strong,” Morrigan noted.  She stepped closer to the pillar before them and traced along the carvings as she began to read.

Paya studied the lettering herself.  Much of the Dalish language was borrowed from the language of the Elvhen, but their knowledge was not infinite.  It was primarily spoken, and what writings they did have only served for a small amount of record keeping.  She could make out a few characters but could not decipher most of the script.  “Ancient Elvhen,” Paya noted out loud, “I can’t make out much.”

“Atish’all Vir Abelasan ,” Solas spoke from behind them, “It means, ‘Enter the Path of the Well of Sorrows.’”

“There is something about knowledge,” Morrigan added as she read, “Respectful or pure...  Shiven … Shivennen …” She brushed her fingers over her lips for a beat and then turned toward Paya, “‘Tis all I can translate.  That it mentions the Well is a good omen.”

“Yes,” Paya agreed.  “Now it’s a matter of finding it.”

Morrigan looked back to the stone, “Supplicants to Mythal would have first paid obeisance here. Following their path may aid entry.”

The women stepped off of the mosaic and observed the area.  There was a ritual to be performed but it was laid out in a sort of riddle that wasn’t immediately clear to them.

“It’s a ‘path’ to the Well, right?”  Khash asked, “Should we follow the tiles?”

Bull scoffed, “Not much of a lock if all you do is step on it.”

“‘Tis a ritual.  Not a barred door,” Morrigan replied incredulously, “There is more here than just earthly treasure.”

Paya looked toward Khash, then Morrigan, and then nodded.  Stepping forward, back onto the tile she had just been standing upon, it lit up again.  She slowly circled the pillars in the middle, making sure she did not step back onto a tile once she stepped off of it.  Soon, she had made it around completely and the blue glow shifted into a yellow hue before it vanished.  Up a set of stairs, the platform stood in front of, a door lit up in its own shade of blue, revealing its presence.

“Well done!” Morrigan said, “Let us see what awaits.”

Paya stepped off of the platform and ascended toward the door.  When she touched it to open it, the light faded.  They were easy to swing open.  She turned toward the rest of the party and said, “Let’s carry on, then?” 

Chapter Text

On the other side of the door was a larger vestibule.  It was made up of two levels with much of the ancient artwork still intact.  Ivy crawled the walls, trees reached toward the sky, and several grasses pushed up through what tiling remained.  

Samson and a handful of his templars were up on the second level.  They stood in front of a large hole; whether they had created it themselves or if it had been there before their arrival was unclear.  Samson turned toward the Inquisitor as she entered the room and called for a group of templars to hold them off.

Archers and warriors came from the shadows, along with one of their mutated horrors.  Combat ensued as Samson leaped down the pit.

Barriers dropped, magic flew, daggers stabbed, axes slashed.  The templars were downed and while Bull was yanking his axe from the horror, Paya ran ahead to follow Samson.

Morrigan stopped her, pulling her away from the crevice 

“Hold a moment!” she demanded.  Paya stopped to hear her out.  “While they rush ahead,” Morrigan continued, gesturing to another patterned door adjacent to the pit, “this leads to our true destination.  We should walk the petitioner’s path, as before!”

“People are dying outside while we stand here,” Cole pleaded, he and the others having caught up by now, “If we use the tunnel, more of our soldiers can flee.”

Solas stood straight and proper. “In this case, I must agree with the witch,” he said, “This is ancient ground, deserving of our respect.”

Khash took a peek down the hole.  “I agree with Solas,” they said, then returned to Bull’s side.

“For all we know, if we don’t follow the proper path we may have more severe consequences to deal with,” Alexander added.  “There is heavy magic here and it may even be faster to follow the intended path.”

Morrigan continued, “You see the urgency.  We cannot find the Well of Sorrows unprepared.”

Paya kept a steady gaze upon Morrigan and spoke in a firm tone that belied her suspicion, “You seem rather eager to reach this Well, Morrigan.”

“Are we not all eager to stop Corypheus from achieving his mad plan?” Morrigan retorted.  She touched Paya’s elbow and guided her toward the magic door.  “There is,” she spoke again,”a danger to the natural order.”  The others watched from where they stood but did not interfere.  “Legends walked Thedas once: things of might and wonder,” Morrigan continued, “Their passing has left us all the lesser.  Corypheus would squander the ancient power of the Well.  I would have it restored.”

“You know nothing of this Well yet you wish to restore it?”  Paya questioned.

“Yes!  Is Thedas so full of wonders that we should leave them to die one by one?  Mankind blunders through the world, crushing what it does not understand: Elves, dragons, magic.  The list is endless!” Morrigan continued to argue, “We must stem the tide or be left with nothing more than the mundane.  This I know to be true.”

“And you believe this Well will aid in that?”

“I read more in the first chamber than I revealed,” Morrigan replied, “It said a great boon is given to those who use the Well of Sorrows…but at a terrible price.”

Paya crossed her arms, “Why didn’t you say so before, Morrigan?”

“My priority is your cause,” Morrigan confirmed, “but if the opportunity arises to save this Well, I am willing to pay the cost.”

Paya exhaled through her nose and observed her allies to gauge their responses.  Then she made her decision.  “Very well, we shall walk the path.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

There were three chambers.  Three paths.  The entrance to each had mosaic depictions of a few of the elvhen gods.

As they walked the paths, Morrigan and Solas took turns volunteering stories about these gods.  Morrigan relayed legends familiar to the two Dalish members of the party.  Solas had stories yet to be heard of.

“It is said Falon’Din’s appetite for adulation was so great, he began wars to amass more worshippers,” he described, “The blood of those who wouldn’t bow low filled lakes as wide as oceans.  Mythal rallied the gods, once the shadow of Falon’Din’s hunger stretched across her own people.”  He studied the walls that surrounded them, avoiding the mosaics and avoiding anyone’s eyes.  “It was almost too late.  Falon’Din only surrendered when his brethren bloodied him in his own temple.”

Khash leaned against a barrier.  “Never heard a tale like that about Falon’Din.”

“The further the Dalish spread, the further their stories branch and grow.  Never mistake them for arbiters of ‘true’ Elvhen culture,” Solas’s gaze finally landed on Khash.  In that moment his eyes appeared as old as the temple itself.  Khash was silent but gave a nod of understanding.

Paya completed the ritual and stepped between them.  “That should be it,” she said.

The magic door was aglow when they approached, and like the first one, the light vanished as it opened. 

On the other side was another large room, even more preserved than the vestibule.  The floor was made up of a large yellow mosaic pattern and the walls held hand-painted murals.  Like the rest of the temple thus far, something about the room left a certain deafness.  The doors shut heavily behind them.

“‘Tis not what I expected,” Morrigan muttered, “What was this chamber used for?”

Paya, absently, felt for Solas’s hand once again and scanned the room.  The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and goosebumps prickled down her spine.  “We aren’t alone,” she uttered.

A group of the strange elves seen before suddenly appeared behind them, bows drawn and ready to strike them all down.  The party stood silent, not turning to face them.  Before them, on a wall that did not reach the ceiling, an unarmed elf, hooded like all the others, stepped forward.  He was distinctly elvish with a stoic face and harsh golden eyes.  He bore dark blue vallaslin that unmistakably honored Mythal, though as before the design was unfamiliar to Paya and Khash.  His brow was in a constant state of furrowing as he stared the Inquisitor and her allies down.  

“ Venavis .”  The word was elvish but Paya did not recognize it.  “You… are unlike the other invaders,” he said, “You have the features of those who call themselves ‘Elvhen.’  You bear the mark of magic which is…familiar.”

As if on cue, the mark on Paya’s hand sparked to life, though dim.

“How has this come to pass?” the elf asked, “What is your connection to those who first disturbed our slumber?”

Paya projected her voice, releasing Solas’s hand as she did.  “They are our enemies.  Yours as well.”

He studied them a moment longer.  “I am called Abelas,” were his words when he finally spoke again, “We are sentinels, tasked with standing against those who trespass on sacred ground.  We wake only to fight.  To preserve this place.  Our numbers diminish with each invasion.”  He began to pace, “I know what you seek.  Like all who have come before, you wish to drink from the Vir’Abelasan .”

“‘The Place of the Way of Sorrows’,” Morrigan whispered, “He speaks of the well!”

“It is not for you,” Abelas stated firmly, his brow furrowing and his mouth flattening into a scowl, “It is not for any of you.”

Paya looked toward Solas.  “Do you think you could talk to him?” she asked.

His eyes widened incredulously, “What shall I say, Inquisitor?  Shall I sway him from a millennia of service by virtue of our shared blood?”  His face relaxed and his eyes drifted to the tiles on the floor.  “He clings to all that remains of his world because he lacks the power to restore it.”

“You’re ancient elves,” Alexander gasped, “From before Tevinter destroyed Arlathan.”

“The shemlen did not destroy Arlathan,” Abelas immediately corrected, “We Elvhen warred upon ourselves.  By the time the doors to this sanctuary closed, our time was over.  We awaken only when called, and each time find the world more foreign than before.  It is meaningless.  We endure.  The Vir’abelasan must be preserved.”

“Over the ages, our people, the Elvhen, have lost everything,” Paya called, “You could help them– help us!”

“‘ Our’ people?  The ones we see in the forest?  Shadows wearing vallaslin?  You are not ‘my’ people.  And you have invaded our sanctum as readily as the shemlen. ”

Paya’s form tensed and her jaw tightened.  Clenching, then unclenching her fists, she continued to speak, “We knew this place was sacred,” she said, “We’ve respected it as best we could.”

Abelas nodded.  “I believe you.  Trespassers you are, but you have followed rites of petition.  You have shown respect to Mythal.  If these others are enemies of yours, we will aid you in destroying them.  When this is done, you shall be permitted to depart.  And never return.”

Solas tugged at Paya’s hand once more, and pleaded hurriedly, “This is our goal, is it not?  There is no reason to fight these sentinels.”

“Consider carefully,” Morrigan added, “You must stop Corypheus, yes, but you may also need the Well for your own.”

Paya nodded and kept steady on Abelas.  “I accept your offer.”

Abelas gestured to a space in the wall where an entrance had then opened up.  “You will be guided to those you seek.  As for the Vir’Abelasan , it shall not be despoiled.  Even if I must destroy it myself.” 

As the elf turned to leave, Morrigan lunged forward, “No!”

“Morrigan!”  Paya grabbed her arm, but the woman slipped through her fingers, turning into a raven.  The raven immediately took off after Abelas.

They were left without their witch.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“ Mythal’enaste.” 

The words uttered by their guide. 

They were led through a series of halls with more mosaics as well as statues symbolizing the many Elvhen deities.  They kept moving, as per the prodding of their guide, but did pause for a breath to observe a few of the murals.

 At times they would come upon walls made of metal latticework as opposed to something solid.  They could hear the sounds of the fight throughout the halls, but from here, they couldn’t see the sentinels facing down against templars and their monsters.

Their guide was silent, other than to ask them to follow when they lingered for too long in certain spots.  They did, however, gesture toward a few pieces of treasure for the taking.  Old gold coins, ornamental weaponry, minor historical artifacts that would only be of interest from an anthropological standpoint.  It was appreciated nonetheless.

The guide stopped in a final room, where a small fight was occurring.  Two templars and an elf wielding a large mallet.  Khash and Bull jumped in to help him, but otherwise, the elf seemed to have it handled.  After the templars were defeated, the elf gestured toward a set of wooden doors.

“ Tuas.”

They stepped through the doors, and then another, and found themselves in an open-air room once again.  Head to toe, it was covered in the lush greens of the wilds.  The old artistic tiling had given way to the life that lingered where it pleased.  Reflections of yellow light, green life danced about the walls.  They could see a towering arch flush against a wall in the distance, beneath it a wide pool.  It was set back on a small elevation of unsculpted earth and rock.  Walls surrounded it, but from this vantage, it was in clear view.  This space, too, was being taken over by extending branches and ivy that climbed its walls. 

“So Mythal endures,” Solas uttered.  His face was relaxed and contemplative.  There was something like nostalgia behind his eyes, as well as some hint of sorrow.

“It’s loud,” Cole half-whispered, “And so cold…”

“That’s… something,” the Iron Bull said.  He, too, was stunned by the natural beauty of the place.

“Let’s go!” Khash volunteered, taking hold of Paya’s wrist before they took flight downward.

Chapter Text

The Inquisition party was at the top of a series of stairs, littered with the bodies of red templars and the sentinels who had fallen to them.  At the bottom were Samson and a group of the red templars.  They were facing a small group of sentinels, already having killed most of them.

“Samson!  Ser!  Watch out!” One alerted the red general.

Khash released Paya, and she stepped forward.

“Samson!”  She called out, drawing attention to herself.

“Inquisitor!”  He attempted a welcoming tone, but his disdain bled into it, “You and those elf-things don’t know when to stop!  You’ve hunted us half across Thedas. I  should’ve guessed you’d follow us into this hole.”

Paya began to walk toward him.  “You have no more lyrium.  And we’ve depleted your reserves.  I think it’s time you stand down.  Surrender to the Inquisition and we won’t have to fight.”

Samson scoffed, “And then we’ll be able to enjoy the mercy you showed our brothers and sisters right?  No thanks.”  He smirked. “Corypheus chose me twice!  First as his general, now as the vessel for the Well of Sorrows.  You know what’s inside the well?  Wisdom.  The kind of wisdom that can scour a world,” he turned toward the Well, “I give it to Corypheus, and he can walk into the Fade without your precious Anchor .”

“Corypheus will not make it to that Well if I can help it.”

“You’re no match for Corypheus,” he sneered, “Even if you drink from the Well, you’ll never master its wisdom as he could.”  He stepped forward, and his body was suddenly illuminated in a red aura. “ This is the strength the Chantry tried to bind!  But it’s a new world now.  With a new god!”  He chuckled darkly, “So, Inquisitor, how will this go?”

“Corypheus has given you a great deal of power.  But what good will it do you if it’s taken away?”  Paya pulled from her potion belt the artifact crafted by Dagna to destroy the lyrium in Samson’s armor.  She lifted it, aiming it toward his chest.  The subtle glow of red lyrium that permeated his being lit up in a flash and was dimmed to nothing.  Just like that.

The templar collapsed at the force of it, suddenly weakened by the destruction of the lyrium in his armor.  “What did you do?” he sounded angry, but then repeated himself as panic began to set in “What did you do!  My armor! It’s gone!  The lyrium–I need it! ”

“I’m sorry, but I can't let you have it,” Paya said as she drew her staff.  Samson got to his feet and readied his blade, not going down without a fight.

They fell on each other.  The others then took up arms and joined in, fighting around the two.

A barrier wrapped itself around Paya as she lifted her staff to block a blow from Samson.  Kicking him in his stomach, he fell back and she attempted to swing her staff at him.  He guarded with the flat side of the blade but couldn’t block the small burst of flames that she set off at its head.  He was sturdier than to be stunned by that, yet his balance faltered.  He used it to his advantage, swinging his blade toward the Inquisitor.  The blade hit her hip, only taking a small amount of damage as Solas’s barrier absorbed the majority of it.

Solas, busy with a templar, defended himself with his own staff and then extended a hand toward her while the templar’s blade was caught in the thick wood.  The cut was gone before Paya could register it.

Unable to free the blade, the templar compensated by slugging Solas in the jaw.  The elf twisted to the side, then pressed his fingers to his temple.  A mind blast knocked the sword free and into one of the templars that had mutated into a horror nearby.

Khash, having been facing the horror, leaped onto the back of the templar attacking Solas.  Their daggers dug into his back and downed him. 

Solas renewed the barrier on Paya and stood beside Alexander.  The human mage had maintained a ranged position the entire fight, circling around and throwing ice and fire at targets when he found openings.  

Bull and Cole were mainly back to back.  Cole, aware that the Iron Bull did not enjoy when his kills were stolen, paid special care to let him have the finishing blow.  However, he’d be aiding in reaching those kills, dodging out of the way before Bull’s axe was brought down onto his target.

Samson finally knocked Paya off of her feet.  Her staff clattered to the ground a few feet away, leaving her unarmed.  She spat at him as he loomed over her, spraying blood at him from her busted lip.  He caught his breath over her, his templars keeping the rest of the party off of them.     A bright red streak ran down the side of his face where she had hit him with her staff blade.  It, paired with his bloodshot eyes and the all-too-amused smirk, lifted goosebumps on her skin.  He was just about spent.  Then, he lifted his sword over his head.  

She quickly lifted her hands and the Anchor sparked to life.  A small, powerful rift formed over his head, yanking the sword from his hands as it pulled at him and the other red templars collectively.  The templars were pulled apart, drawn to the core of the rift.

As it faded, Paya threw a barrage of energy up into Samson’s chest.  He was thrown into the air by the force, meeting the ground with a harsh thud.

The fighting came to an end. Soon all that could be heard was the ambiance of the wilds and the heavy breathing of a battle well fought.

Healing spells were passed over each injury as they recollected themselves.  Paya, still full of adrenaline, took a hold of Solas’s face as he came to her and kissed him.  She wore a big stupid grin and held onto him after the kiss was broken.

He chuckled, passing a thumb over her lip, now mended.  “I’m glad that you’re alright, as well, Vhenan.”

“Boss,” Bull called over, “He’s still breathing.”  He stood with Alexander and Khash over the unconscious form of Samson.

The lovers released their embrace but resumed their hand-holding.  

Cole approached, speaking softly, “He’s not ready to go yet.”

The two elves approached and Paya glanced around.  “We can have him taken into custody by the Inquisition,” she said.  Then, lifting her head toward the well, “Let’s hurry.”

As though on cue, Abelas dashed by them, and Morrigan’s raven form soon after.  As he ascended toward the well, natural stones of the earth rose to meet his feet.  There was a brief chase, Abelas, Morrigan, and the Inquisitor.  But Morrigan reached the Well first, blocking Abelas from further progress.  And soon, Paya was behind him, flanking him.

Morrigan spoke, calmer than her words seemed warranted for, but still hinting at her frustration. “You heard his parting words, Inquisitor.  The elf seeks to destroy the Well of Sorrows!”

Abelas backed down.  “So the sanctum is despoiled at last.”

“You would have destroyed the Well yourself, given the chance.”

He pointed toward her.  “To keep it from your grasping fingers!  Better it be lost than bestowed upon the undeserving!”

“Fool!” Morrigan replied, indignant, “You’d let your people’s legacy rot in the shadows!”

“Enough, Morrigan!” Paya interrupted.

“You cannot honestly–” Morrigan started.

“I said, enough !”

Morrigan hardened her jaw, taking a step away from the elven inquisitor.  She and Abelas exchanged stares that would set the world ablaze if possible.  The others caught up as this happened.

Once calmed, she turned to address Paya once again, “The Well clearly offers power, Inquisitor.  If that power can be turned against Corypheus, can you afford not to use it?”

“Do you even know what you ask?”  Abelas started.  He turned quietly toward the well, observing the reflections within it.  “As each servant of Mythal reached the end of their years, they would pass their knowledge on.  Through this,”  he gestured toward the well and then turned back to the two women.  “All that we were.  All that we knew.  It would be lost forever.”

“I understand how difficult this must be for you, Abelas.  Holding on to what’s left,” Paya spoke softly.

“You cannot imagine,” he agreed, “Each time we awaken, it slips further from our grasp.”

Solas stepped in, “There are other places, friend.  Other duties.  Your people yet linger.”

The sentinel turned toward him.  “Elvhen such as you?”

“Yes,” he replied, “Such as I.”

Abelas looked between those who had gathered.  He released a silent sigh.  “You have shown respect to Mythal,” he addressed Paya, “And there is a righteousness in you I cannot deny.”  He assumed a more formal stance, a straightened back, fully facing the Inquisitor.  “Is that your desire?” he asked, “To partake of the Vir’Abelasan as best you can to fight your enemy?”

“Only if you allow it,” she replied.

“One does not obtain permission.  One obtains the right.”  As he concluded, Abelas turned and began to walk away from them.  As he neared Solas, who stood near the arched entrance to the Well with the others, he paused.  “The Vir’Abelasan may be too much for a mortal to comprehend,” he added, and then looking back toward the women, “Brave it if you must.  But know you this:  You shall be bound forever to the will of Mythal.”

“Bound?  To a goddess who no longer exists, if she ever did?” Morrigan questioned.

Abelas replied, “Bound as we are bound.  The choice is yours.”

“Does…” Paya uttered, her voice catching for a moment.  “Does Mythal still exist?” she asked.

“Anything is possible,” Abelas said, not confirming anything.

“Elven legend states that Mythal was tricked by Fen’Harel and banished to the Beyond,” Morrigan stated.

“‘Elven legend’ is wrong.  The Dread Wolf had nothing to do with her murder.”

Morrigan blinked, taken aback.  “Murder?  I said nothing of–”

“She was slain,” Abelas interrupted, “If a god truly can be.  Betrayed by those who destroyed this temple,” his eyes remained on the Inquisitor, “Yet the Vir’Abelasan remains.  As do we.  That is something.”

“Are you leaving..?” Paya asked.

“Our duty ends.  Why remain?” 

“There is a place for you, lethallin, ” Solas said, “If you seek it.”

Abelas eyed him with familiarity.  “Perhaps there are places the shemlen have not touched,” then to Paya again, “It may be that only uthenra awaits us.  The blissful sleep of eternity, never to awaken.”

“Thank you, Abelas,” Paya bid farewell.

“Do not thank me yet, shemlen. ”

As Abelas turned to leave, Solas said his own parting words, “ Malas amelin ne halam, Abelas. ”

The sentinel nodded and then made his way.

“I’m not familiar with that phrase,” Alexander spoke up.

Solas watched Abelas’s departure.  “His name.  Abelas means ‘sorrow.’  I said… I hoped he finds a new name.”

Across from them, on the other side of the well, was the arch that they had seen before.  An eluvian.  Morrigan made note of such.  “I was correct on that count, at least.  The Well must be the key to it.  Take its power, and Mythal’s last eluvian will be no more use to Corypheus than glass.”  Her gaze dropped to the waters below, “I did not expect the Well to feel so… hungry.”

“Does that not concern you, Morrigan?” Paya asked.

“Knowledge begets a hunger for more,” the witch replied.  “I am willing to pay the price the Well demands,” she continued, “I am also the best suited to use its knowledge in your service.”

“Or more likely,” Solas approached, “to your own ends.”

“What would you know of my ‘ends’, elf ?” Morrigan spat.

“You are a glutton drooling at the sight of a feast,” Solas accused with as much venom, “You cannot be trusted.”

“Of those present, I alone have the training to make use of this.  Let me drink, Inquisitor.”

“You alone?” Paya questioned, her volume lifting with the energy generated between the three of them.  “This is my heritage!”

“You are not suggesting that you should take from the well, Inquisitor,” Solas came back in.

“I am the First to Keeper Deshanna of clan Lavellan,“ Paya replied, “I have been trained since I was a child in understanding the old magicks of the Elvhen!”

“I have studied the oldest lore,” Morrigan interrupted, “I have delved into mysteries of which you could only dream!  Can you honestly tell me there is anyone better suited?”

Paya took pause, then looked toward Solas.  “Solas has likely seen and learned far more than you ever could, in the Fade,” she said, “He could do it.”

“No,” he stated firmly, “Do not ask me again.”

She paused and looked around their group again.  “I would be,” she said.

“You lead the Inquisition,” Morrigan argued, “This is not a risk you can take.  I have the best chance of making use of the Well… for everyone.  Let me drink.”

“I believe that is my choice, Morrigan,” the Inquisitor replied.

Solas stepped closer to Paya and took a hold of her hand.  “Vhenan, as much as I do not trust the witch, I would prefer she take it over you.”

“Why, Solas?” Paya asked, her voice rising again.

“The costs behind this are too great to risk yourself!” he retorted.

“I will not give it to her simply because she thinks she should have it!” she pulled her hand away from Solas’s forcefully and stepped toward the Well.

“ Vhenan ,” he pleaded.

“Perhaps Abelas’s plan to destroy the well may be the best one,” she said.

“What happens when Corypheus comes for you again?” Morrigan asked, then said, “He is immortal!   The wisdom of the Well may include a way to destroy him!  Give me this, and I fight at your side.  I shall be your sword.”

“Looking at it.  Listening to it, ” Paya replied, “That’s not just knowledge from the ancient elvhen priests.  It’s their will .”  

“How would you know such a thing?”

“ That’s exactly what Abelas was telling us!”  Paya pleaded, “The collective will of the priests puts anyone who drinks under a compulsion.  A geas.  Can’t you feel it?”

Morrigan looked back to the waters.  “That would match the legends.  But it does not tell us what the geas entails,” she turned back toward Paya, “I would still use the Well.  But you are right–we must be cautious.”

Paya sighed and turned toward the others, “What are your thoughts on this?”

Solas exhaled, “She is right about only one thing:  we should take the power which lies in that Well.”

Cole had been watching the water the whole time.  “So many voices.  They would be in your head.  Talking over you.  You don’t want them.”

Bull crossed his arms over his chest.  “Any chance this Well could help us against Corypheus, I say you take it.”

“I agree,” Khash said.  “Better you take it.  As an elf, and trained as a Keeper, you have more of a right to this than any shemlen witch.”

“I’m finding I might agree with the sentinels about its destruction,” Alexander said, “Blasphemous as it may feel, this may prove too dangerous for either one of you to wield.”

Paya paced for a moment, peering outside of the space the Well occupied for a moment.

“I will take it,” she said finally.

“Paya– Inquisitor, you do not know what you are stepping into,” Solas started.

“I’ve made my decision, Solas.  We will deal with the consequences after.”

He stepped down.

“So you will take what little knowledge you can understand, and let the rest go to waste?”  Morrigan attempted to argue again.

“It will not go to waste.”

“You don’t know that!”

Paya’s expression hardened into neutrality and she stepped closer to the well again.

In the quiet after the decision, Morrigan spoke softly.  “Perhaps it is better this way…Do as you will with the Well of Sorrows, Inquisitor.  But be careful.”

Everyone stood back, preparing for what may happen once the Well took hold of the Inquisitor.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The pool was shallow; the waters themselves only rose just above her ankles.  Though the Well was wide, and she appeared small as she stood in the center of it.

As soon as the water from her cupped hands touched her lips, consciousness left her.  The waters glowed with the magicks that filled the sanctum and swirled around her.  She did not immediately drop, suspended on her feet for a moment.  The hair typically framing her face fell away as her head lulled backward.  Her vallaslin looked like angry red scars, etched perfectly into her face.  The water dispersed--like all the magic before--and she was dropped like a corpse onto the tiled mosaic below.

“Vhenan!” The voice spilled from his mouth before he realized it, “Vhenan!”   The others began moving toward her, but her eyes shot open before they were close enough to touch her.

He hesitated on his approach, despite how desperately he wished to run to her side.  

He did not know how she would respond to his presence now.  Surely, the Will of Mythal and her followers would know who he was.

She held her head as she rose, everyone slowly nearing now.  He was the first to speak, yet again.

“How…do you feel, Vhenan?”

She… smiled.  Remnant lights of the Well lingered about her feet.  “I feel…”

They were interrupted as Corypheus appeared behind them, at the top of the stairs they had previously entered from.

She acted quickly.  “The mirror!”

As they ran toward it, an image of Mythal formed from the remnant magic.  It mouthed a phrase, voices layered on top of the other, and the eluvian opened for them.

They ran through.  The destination pre-determined, they did not deal with the space between the Eluvians, and simply emerged within the hallway that held Skyhold’s eluvian.  It closed behind them thereafter.

Chapter Text

The Inquisitor’s vallaslin was red.  The design honored Dirthamen, the eldest child of Elgar'nan and Mythal, the twin brother of Falon’Din.  He was known to the Dalish as the keeper of secrets.

Beneath the vallaslin, her face had a splatter of freckles.  Her features were unmistakably elven – large round eyes set deep into her skull, cheekbones that sat high on her otherwise round face, long ears that stuck out a few inches away from her head, coming to a rounded tip.  The humans used the term “knife-ear” almost indiscriminately when they spit their venom, but Paya always felt her ears resembled more of the shape of a leaf.  Beech.  Or maybe elm.  She kept searching for some physical change in herself, but she was still her.

She closed her eyes, and took in a slow, steady breath through her nose, and then out through her lips.  If she focused, she could hear the distant whispers that the Well of Sorrows granted her.  Sometimes it was too soft to decipher, but at times the will of Mythal’s followers reached through the haze to tell her something more clearly. They had told her that the key to vanquishing Corypheus was to first destroy his dragon.

After reporting to her advisors with Morrigan in tow, she had retreated to her bed-chamber alone to unwind.  It had only been a day since everyone had returned from the Arbor Wilds. 

Khash came to see her, pulling her away from her own reflection.

He spoke in a cautious tone, “Are you alright, Paya? You took quite a tumble after you drank from the Well.”

“I am,” she replied, “My head feels heavy but things are quiet now.”

“No more earth-shattering revelations?” he asked tentatively.

She shook her head, “No.  Nothing that Abelas did not reveal to us beforehand.”  She looked into the mirror and traced her fingertips over her vallaslin.  “How are you feeling about all of that, by the way?”

Khash paced toward the desk she stood behind and sat at its edge.  He watched her reflection until she made eye contact with his own.  “You have said that we were missing details in our history,” he said, “It happened so long ago though, that I don’t think it matters anymore how the Elvhen fell from grace.”

Paya turned to face him more properly.  “I’m not nearly as devastated as I thought I would be either.  The fact that Mythal was murdered though…” she trailed off, her eyes dropping to a quill left unattended on her desk.

“Fen’harel was just one being.  Just because we only know his betrayal, does not mean he was the only one who enacted them,” he said, “Solas had stories about the other Creators sounding just as…” he cut himself off,  “There are clearly stories we still need to learn.”

Paya couldn’t help but release a laugh,  “You actually believed what he said in the temple?”

Khash’s face flushed.  “Certainly more than Morrigan.”

“They weren’t necessarily contradictory about everything, Khash.”

“Yes, but… I don’t know.  He sounded like Hahren Belmahvir.”

“You know, I never thought of that but now that you say it, I think I understand,” she said warmly.

They stood there silently observing each other.  

“Why don’t you let me do your hair for you?”  Khash finally said.

“Isn’t it typically reversed?” she asked.

He smiled, “Well, your hair is getting a bit long.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Paya’s hair had a natural wave to it.  It was subtle, but when her hair was let down it was evident.  And the curve was more noticeable when it was shorter.  It wasn’t a perfect cut, but it did the job.  She was sure Josephine or Vivienne would have it touched up later, once they saw it.

She found Varric first.

“Hey there Daffodil.  How’s your head?” he asked, “Heard you… um.  Drank some water and now have a few more roommates up there.”

“It was a bit more complicated than that,” she replied, rubbing her neck.

“Well, I’m sure of that,” he forced a chuckle, “Anyone talking to you now?”

“Only you.”

He seemed amused.  “We haven’t seen you in a few days,” he said, “I was getting worried about ya.  I’m not sure I would have been gung-ho about you doing it, but I wasn’t there so who am I to make judgments.” 

She smiled.

He scratched the back of his neck and adjusted his collar.  “We were going to try another round of Wicked Grace tonight if you were interested in joining.”

“I’d love to.”

The next smile was definitely real.  “I’ll see you then.”

Everyone had a mixed bag of reactions.  Some were angry, others indifferent.  Some parties were simply relieved that someone capable had taken it–that also wasn’t Corypheus or his goons.

When she stepped into the Rotunda, Solas was nowhere to be seen.  Frowning, she ascended to the library.  Dorian was alone, reading in his self-made nook.

“What happened at the elven temple,” he said when he noticed her presence, “It’s got me thinking.”

“Oh?”  Paya pulled a stool up beside him.  He set the book aside and leaned forward on his knees.

“I should go back, shouldn’t I?  To Tevinter.  Once this is done,” he said, “If we’re still alive.”

“I didn’t realize you weren’t planning to.”

“I wasn’t.  Our source for Alexander’s research is here in Orlais and I didn’t think I had much to return to.”  He stood up and walked over to the banister that kept people from falling into Solas’s room below.  “All of my talk of how terribly wrong things are back home, but what do I do about it?  Nothing.”

Paya stood to follow.  “Why did the temple make you think of this?”

“You encountered ancient elves.  A piece of history.  Something the Imperium didn’t destroy,” he replied, “Maybe my people can atone for what we’ve done.  There is something still left to restore.  Maybe not all of us want to, but that could be altered.  If you can change minds, so can I.”

Paya grinned, “Well, I think someone with your impeccable taste could transform Tevinter.”

“I hope you’re right.  You usually are,” he said.  He turned to lean on the banister.  Solas’s space was still empty of any Solases.  “You’re shaping the world.  For good or ill.  How could I aspire to do any less?” he questioned, “If it means proving that Tevinter can be better?  That there’s hope even for my homeland?  I would do anything.”

She came to lean beside him.  “I have faith in what you are striving to do, Dorian.  You have my full support.  After we deal with Corypheus, of course.”

“Well, of course!”  he chuckled.

Alexander appeared then.  “Nice to see you out and about again, Paya,” he greeted.

She smiled, “It’s good to be out and about.  I thought you’d be with Solas right now.”

“I haven’t seen him all day,” Alexander replied.  “Did you need something from him?”

“I wanted to speak with him, is all.”

He reassured, with a smile, “Well if you don’t have any luck, come find me and maybe I’ll look around the Fade.”

Paya nodded and departed.

She made her way to the gardens.  Perhaps she’d find him there drawing.

No such luck.

He was vacant from all his usual spots.  

She descended into the hall beneath Josephine’s room.  There was an entrance to the prisons, a hidden library, and a wine cellar down here.  It remained mostly untouched and she’d only explored it once or twice since they had arrived at Skyhold.

Solas was in the library, placing a book into its proper place.

“There you are,” she said out loud, almost not realizing she did.

He looked over.  For a moment he looked sad.  “There you are,” he repeated back.

“Could we talk?”

He nodded and took a step closer, offering his arm.  They paced about the hall for about a minute before finally speaking.

“Why did you do it?” he started, even-toned and still level-headed.

“It was our best option,” she replied, matching his tone.

“But was it truly?  Lady Morrigan is not the leader of an inquisition.  I may not have faith in her but she is not you. ”

“And she is not an elf.”

“And that should matter?” he asked.

“It does matter.  We have lost so much of our history, as is.”  She stopped walking and slipped her arm from his.  “If anyone should hold the Well’s wisdom it should be someone of the People for which it was made!”  

His hands came to grasp her shoulders; it wasn’t a restraining embrace.  The way his weight pressed into her arms, she could detect it was a steadying tool.  “I begged you not to drink from the Well!”  His composure finally broke.  His face was a mix of anger and grief and anxiety.  “Why could you not have listened?”

“Solas…”

“You gave yourself into the service of an ancient elven god!”

She frowned, “And what exactly do you think that means?”

His volume lowered.  The anger subsided.  His hands moved down her arms and came to rest in her own hands.  “You are Mythal’s creature now,” he said, “Everything you do, whether you know it or not, will be for her.   You have given up a part of yourself.”

“I have not become a slave to her,” Paya corrected.

“Not yet,” he replied, “But if you remove the layer of nostalgia from stories of the Elven gods, you might see the danger.”  He eyed her carefully, “They were arrogant and fickle.  They warred amongst themselves.  They had feuds, vendettas.” His grip on her hands tightened, “And you are bound to one of them now.” She bowed her head briefly, closing her eyes.  He lifted a hand and delicately cupped her face.  Once she looked back at him, he spoke again.  “I suppose it is better you have the power than Corypheus.  Which leads to the next logical question:  What will you do with the power of the Well once Corypheus is dead?”

He lowered his hand and gave her time to contemplate her words.  She searched his face, and then looked around the walls as though they would have her answer.  She replied.  “I’ll do what I can to get back to where things were.  Before Corypheus and his allies interfered.”

Solas’s expression softened considerably.  There was even a hint of a smile.  “You would put things back the way they were before?”

“Well… maybe not everything.”

The grip he took on her hand was more of a reassuring gesture now. “I know what you mean,” he said, “Thank you.”

“Thank you?”

He pulled her hand toward his lips, kissing her knuckles gently.  “You have not been what I expected, Inquisitor Lavellan,” he smirked at her briefly, and then his face fell back into a calm, bittersweet expression, “You have… impressed me. You honor the past and work to recover what was lost, even if the cost is high.  I respect that, and I am indebted to you for the reminder.”  He sighed and allowed her to press her palm against his cheek.  “Forgive my melancholy.  Corypheus has cost us much.  The temple of Mythal did not deserve such a fate.  The orb he carries, and its stolen power–that, at least, we may still recover.”  He made steady eye contact with her.  “With luck, some of the past may yet survive.”

“Solas…I am with you,” she said softly.

A small smile returned.  “There is something I wish to show you, Vhenan.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

How he learned of the Eluvian in Crestwood, Paya was unsure.  It was tucked away in the old dam-house with a tarp thrown over it.  As they exited the building, she found the sun setting over the lake.  The town was slowly rebuilding and a handful of boats, silhouetted against the sky, dotted the coastline.

“This way,” Solas took her hand.  They walked across Crestwood’s fields, away from the fort and the settlements, the grass cool beneath their feet.  There was a cave–a statue of Fen’Harel sat in front of it, guarding it. 

They stopped in front of the statue and observed it carefully.  “Tell me,” Solas said, “How did your clan honor Fen’Harel?”

“As Khash said in the temple, we would place statues outside our camps to ward off harmful spirits,” she replied.  She reached up to pull away a piece of ivy that started to climb up the stone’s surface.  “If there wasn’t a statue already placed nearby, our craftsmen would construct a small one from scraps or they’d find old wood to carve it from.  The statues are always left behind.”

He brushed his thumb over the back of her hand.  “Are there any stories you can recount?”

“I do not speak as eloquently as one of our hahren might,” she smiled.  

Ha’fen

He chuckled, “I would still like to hear you try.”

Solasor ise ra ela harel ha'harellan.

“There was… a poem.”  She scanned the surrounding area briefly before she began to recite what she could remember.

Thana nar sileal

To her memory, it was simply meant as a warning tool for young elves.  Pride begets foolishness.  Or at least that’s what the hahren always said.

Fenen telal nen elvyr'harem

She finished relaying the poem and locked her hand with his once again, “I hardly believe you brought me here just so I could tell you a silly poem about Fen’Harel.”

Solas chuckled and began to walk into the cave, “You would be right, Vhenan.”

As they passed through the cave, it became obvious that it was more of a short tunnel.  On the other side was a small grove, the setting sun illuminating it in darkening shades of red and purple.  Two statues of Ghilan'nain stretched above a pool of water that was fed from above by a small waterfall.  The pool itself was crystal clear, appearing shallow.  

“The veil is thin here,” Solas noted, “Can you feel it on your skin?  Tingling?”  His voice was serene as he stood within his element.

Telir es'an venirelanaan or aju 

“Like wine, frosted with magic,” she hummed.

He snorted, “Yes, like that.”

He stopped with her in front of the pool and watched her face for several moments.  She looked back, quietly waiting for him to speak.

Ha'fen virelan,

“Do you remember…when we entered the Fade together?  Before we left for the Arbor Wilds,” he asked.

She nodded her head slowly.  “I do.”

“I will definitely tell you tonight,” he said, almost looking prideful.  The cocky grin faded into a more relaxed one, however.  “As I said, I wish to show you what you mean to me.”

“And as I said back then, you don’t need to do that,”  she squeezed his hands.

“I still wish to do it,” he replied, pulling her hands to his lips.  He inhaled slowly through his nose, and then back out through pursed lips.  “I wish to tell you the truth.” For a moment, regret flitted over his eyes, but then relief as they met hers.  “You are unique,” he continued, “In all Thedas I never expected to find someone who could draw my attention from the Fade.  You have become…important to me.  More important than I could have imagined.”

“I would say you are very much the same to me, Solas,” she replied.

He pressed his lips to her knuckles before lowering her hands once again.  “Then… what I must tell you… The truth.”  His eyes fell to their hands.  He became fascinated with how his thumb moved over her knuckles very briefly. 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The truth

Who he was.

Why he was here.

What he’d give up for her.

But then, he looked at her face again.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Your face,” Solas said.

Paya sputtered a small giggle out, “My face?”

He sighed, “The vallaslin,” he uttered, “In my journeys through the Fade, I have seen things.  I have discovered what those marks mean.”

Ha'i'bellanar.

She tipped her head to the side and squeezed his hands.  “They are symbolic of adulthood and honor our gods.”

He watched her carefully.  “No,” he spoke gently, “They are slave markings.  Or at least…they were in the time of ancient Arlathan.”

The humor in her eyes quickly fell.  Her hand left his and immediately touched her face.  “That’s…”  she closed her eyes and breathed out a trembling sigh, “I am honestly not surprised.  But it seems it’s just another thing we got wrong.”

He brushed her hair back and remained quiet as she processed the information.

She bit her lip.  Little tears pricked at her eyes but she blinked them away and finally looked back at him.  “You knew my doubts about what we’ve been taught,” she said, “I simply wish… this wasn’t the thing they were wrong about.”  She let out a scoff.  “Of all the things to keep.  Slave markings?”

He smoothed her hair back again.  “For all they got wrong, the Dalish did one thing right.  They made you.”  He took her face between his hands and used his thumbs to shoo away the hint of tears.  “Of anyone I’ve met, you deserved this knowledge the most.”  He looked at her sad face and then offered a calm reassuring smile.  “If you like,” he continued, “I know a spell.  I can remove the vallaslin.”

“Truly?”

“Yes…”

She straightened her back.  “Our people vowed never to submit to slavery.”

“I am so sorry if this has caused you pain,” he went on, “It was selfish of me.  I look at you and I see what you truly are,” he leaned down and pulled her forehead against his.  “And you deserve better than what those cruel marks represent.”

“Then cast your spell.  Take the vallaslin away.”

He pulled her closer to the pool.  “Sit.”

He lowered her down onto her knees, sitting in front of her in a mirrored pose.  With her hands balled up on his pant legs, he lifted his own hands to her face.  She closed her eyes instinctively as a bright blue-green light started to emit from his palms.  It was cool, like his barriers, and felt like a breeze rolling off her skin, but with the texture of water.  The light faded soon.

She knew he was finished when his lips pressed into her forehead.  Her eyes fluttered open and he smiled at her.  

“ Ar lasa mala revas ,” he spoke delicately, “You are free.  You are so beautiful.”

Guiding her back to her feet by her elbows, he took a moment to look at her.

Her freckles stood out without the red lines of Dirthamen distracting from them.  The grove darkened with the night and the moon illuminated the pool they stood beside.  Solas’s eyes illuminated with the green.  Dark but iridescent.  His smile was so warm and so filled with admiration of the woman he held in front of him.  Paya went in for the kiss and he immediately returned it.

They fit perfectly into each other as she pressed flush against him.  His hands moved down her back, to her hips, and then further.  She desperately wanted him to be closer.  Closer than they were now or had ever been before.

Y solas ise ha'fen.

But then he broke the kiss and slowly pulled away to look at her.

The journey Solas’s face took was quick.  If she had blinked, she would have missed the shift from desire, to bittersweet love, to a dawning, to regret.

“And I am sorry.  I distracted you from your duty.  It will never happen again.”

I solas re felasilor.

He said it quickly, dropping everything like a tray of expensive china.  Her knees felt immediately weak and as he stepped back she stepped forward, keeping about the same distance between them as before. 

“Solas,” she croaked

He lifted his hand and took another step back.  “Please, Vhenan.”

She shook her head and reached out to grab his sleeve.  “Solas–you can’t do this— Don’t end it like this.” She began begging, “Solas, I love you.”

He took another step back before she could touch him.  “You have a rare and marvelous spirit.  In another world…”

Palahna isa solas.

“Why not this one, Solas!”

His voice was barely stable.  “I can’t. ”

As she reached for him one more time, he took another step away.  “I’m sorry,” he pleaded before quickly turning and walking away from her.

I ma juharaan ha'harellan.

She stood alone, watching his back.  

Fen’felasilor.

Slowly, she moved her hands to her face, seeking to trace over her vallaslin.  Of course, she couldn't have felt it before, but now she was painfully conscious of the fact that her freckled face was bare.  

Paya’s vallaslin used to be red.

Chapter Text

He sat and waited in the dam house.  He lit the small hearth within. The wolf mandible hit his knees as he hunched over himself.  He felt sick.  The desire to run sat deep within him.  To go back.  To tell her he was wrong.  To give her the truth he had initially intended.

Instead, he stewed.

He had joined this Inquisition for one thing.

And a romantic relationship with its leader was not that.  She had her duty to fulfill.  And he had his own.  

The whole thing was a frivolous pursuit from the start.

The Inquisitor stepped in timidly, eyes kept to the floor.  She was a completely different woman than he had come here with.

Rising from his spot on the floor, he opened the Eluvian.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

After returning to Skyhold, the elven mages immediately went separate ways.  Paya retreated to her bed-chamber, keeping her head low and avoiding any faces that were still up and about.  She was stopped in the stairwell when she bumped into Leliana.

“Inquisitor, fancy running into you here,” she said.  Paya looked at her, immediately feeling sick as Leliana did her best to suppress her shock at the vanished vallaslin.

“Yes.  It’s awfully late, though, I should get to bed.”  

The shock quickly melted into concern.  “Inquisitor, what happened?”

“I’m focusing on my duty.”  The elf straightened her back and tried to look like she wasn’t about to cry.  “I’m trying to let go of…” she trailed and searched the space for the proper wording, “Distractions.  And it would be a lie to say that it’s not posing difficult.”

Lelaina squeezed Paya’s arm and began to move passed her.  “Take your time for that tomorrow.  And after that, we should call another war meeting.”

“I agree,” Paya replied, starting to relax.  “Goodnight, Sister Nightingale.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Khash was taking advantage of the Inquisition’s brief time away from travel and fighting to spend time with the Iron Bull.  They spent the night previous with their Qunari lover, and still lingered with him for much of the morning.  They were stirred to full consciousness when Bull finally decided it was time to get up.

“Where’re you going?” Khash sat up and studied Bull’s back as he got dressed.

He let out a hearty chuckle.  “Agreed to go over formations with the Chargers today.  It’s about time we get up anyway.”

The elf slowly rose from bed and gathered their discarded clothing.  They hummed when Bull’s big hand touched the small of their back.  They sat up and into a kiss on the forehead.

He pulled away and sat on the bed to adjust his leg brace. “If you need the company, you should go see what Dorian’s up to, Kadan.”

Khash chuckled, ” I think he’s doing nerd stuff with Alexander and Solas today.  I think I’ll go see Paya.  She’s still keeping to herself after everything that happened at the Well.”  

Bull nodded.  “Try and get her outside of that tower then.  She missed the card game last night and Varric seemed concerned.”

“I did notice that.”

Bull rose from the bed again and moved toward the door leading into the tavern.  Khash stopped him.

 “Hey Bull,” they said.

Bull turned his head to look at Khash from the corner of his eye.  “Mm?”

“ Ar lath ma, ” Khash said, smiling.

“Love you too, Kadan.  See you later.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Alexander and Dorian had found a quiet place tucked away from the bulk of Skyhold.  They had made a breakthrough in their research for Alexander’s way back to his own time.  Dorian had kept some of the knowledge of Alexius’s time magic.  Simple manipulation of how time passed within a bubble.  Nothing as far as Alexius’s throwing people around years at a time, but it had been useful in combat.  They took the concept and combined it with the elvhen magic Marcellus had studied.

Solas was expected, but he had yet to show.  The Tevinter men spent their time waiting, going over their notes again.  However, this tardiness was uncharacteristic of the elf.

“Did you happen to see what he had gotten up to yesterday?” Dorian asked out of the blue.

“After Paya left to find him, it was as though they both appeared to vanish from Skyhold.”

Dorian stood and moved to look down toward Skyhold’s courtyards.  “Perhaps they finally decided to officiate their relationship?” he teased.

Alexander sighed, flipping his notebook shut.  “I don’t think that would cause him to be late today.”

Dorian dusted his hands off and turned to start gathering up their supplies.  “Let’s go find our dear Fade expert then.”

“If they’re together, we should let them be, shouldn’t we?” Alexander questioned.

“There’s always the chance that they aren’t together and something tragic has occurred,” Dorian replied, mostly with sarcasm; Alexander realized he had a point, though.

“Let’s go then,” the other mage replied.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Khash…”

She spoke just loud enough that they could hear her speak their name from where she stood.  She was coming in from the balcony, dressed down in lounging clothes.  She wore no makeup, and it perhaps made the missing vallaslin even more obvious.  She remained still, unsure of how Khash was going to react to the state of her complexion.  

“What happened to your…” they started but were unable to finish the question.

Paya moved her hand to her cheek.  “I asked Solas to remove them.”

If not for the wind whistling in from outside, the room would be silent.  She wasn’t even certain Khash was breathing.  

After a long pause of just staring at each other, they finally asked, “Why?”

“I wanted them removed,” she replied plainly.

They moved over to her before she lifted her eyes to meet theirs again.  They cupped her face, bending so their eyes were level.  “How is that possible?”

She shook her head.  “How is unimportant.  The fact is that it was my decision.”

They pulled their hands away and started to move toward the door.

“Khash, I–”

“I knew Solas was bad news!” they blurted and turned back toward her.  Their presence suddenly loomed over her.  “Why would you even think to ask him to do that if he didn’t give you the idea!”

She stayed silent.

“Does he hate the Dalish so much?”

“No, Khash,” she said, still quiet, “They simply don’t represent what I want them to any longer.”

Khash leaned against the wall, holding their head.  “Paya, I don’t understand.”

“I know,” she replied, “But I promise I’ll explain.  Someday.”

“Why not now?”

“Because it would hurt you too much to know it now.”

Khash slowly looked back at her.  At her face.  Round and gentle, like their mother’s.  Heartshaped?  Covered in freckles.  She had a scar on her jaw, near her chin.  She had struck herself with her staff while trying to show off some spell the Keeper had taught her.  One on her cheek, near her temple.  They didn’t remember how she got that one.  The one on her brow was from the Conclave explosion, or at least happened somewhere between her leaving the Clan and their arrival at Haven. They were always aware of these scars but they stood out now without the red lines of her vallaslin pulling the attention away from them.  She looked tired.  She wasn’t as good at hiding it as her peers were.

Paya had already begun drifting away from her People before she had left for the Conclave.  They had started to piece together that she was going to leave, after the Fade, but thought taking Mythal’s wisdom for herself would have reversed that drift.

Khash was positive Solas was the nail in the coffin.  Nothing she said would change their mind from that.  It started the moment her relationship with him did.

“Did you do it for him?  Was this to solidify your relationship or something?  Or did he give you some sort of ultimatum?” Khash asked, forming the words carefully so they wouldn’t break.

For a split moment, she looked like she was going to cry.

“No.  None of that.  We ended our relationship.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“We ended our relationship,” Solas said.

Alexander and Dorian stood side-by-side at the elf’s bedroom door, having gone there after not being able to locate him in any of his usual locations.  They both were painted with some degree of surprise.

“Why?” Alexander was the first to ask.  “Solas, you adore her.”

Solas’s cheeks turned pink but only briefly. “A relationship right now would not be wise,” he said plainly, “She has a duty to uphold.  The relationship was a…frivolous distraction….for the both of us.”

“This is a rather sudden decision,” Dorain said, “Does this have something to do with the Well of Sorrows?”

Solas gripped his doorframe.  His knuckles were pale and trembling.  “No.  As much as I disagreed with that decision, it has not changed how I feel about the Inquisitor.”

“Then why put yourself through this sort of grief?” Alexander asked.

“Because I must.  Our duty– Her duty–” he paused and let out a breath, ”Our duty is more important than either of us."  He let go of the doorframe.  “I believe we had plans today, yes?  That’s why you came looking?”

Alexander took pause, wanting to continue the conversation but understanding that Solas did not.  

Dorian picked it up a bit faster and replied for him.  “Yes, that’s right.  Are you still up for it?”

“I believe so, yes,” Solas replied, “Lead the way.”

The three men left the tower.  Solas put on a face of neutrality.  No one paid them more attention than usual. 

Before they exited toward the courtyard, Alexander took one more look behind him.  Emerging from the tower were both of the Dalish siblings.  Even with Paya's head lowered, he could tell something was off.  She looked up after feeling his stare– then he realized what was missing.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"My footsies are freezing, thank you."  Dorian sat on a stump hugging his robes close.  The southern cold could still surprise him. 

"I'll have the fire going soon and your precious footsies will be warm again," Khash assured.  

They had been in the Emprise before when gathering information about Samson.  Now, they were here to take over a Keep at the request of one of Empress Celene’s soldiers.  While Khash prepared the fire, Bull got to teasing Dorian over his shivering.  With them were Solas and Cole.  Paya had gone off to scout out a route to the Keep with Cassandra as they prepared to settle for the night.  While they were here in the Emprise, the others of the Inquisitor's inner circle had been sent to the Western Approach to investigate a few concerning mysteries that had sprung up. 

“Here, let me help,” Dorian rose from his stump and knelt down with Khash, using a bit of magic to guide the embers into a small flame.

“Why didn’t you just do that from the start, Dorian?” Iron Bull chuckled.  The Tevinter just harumphed in reply.

As the trio laughed at each other, the women returned.  “It seems we’ll be going in through the front door,” Paya said, “There aren’t many other routes.”

Khash sat back to look at her.  “Anything else?”

“According to Ser Michel, the Red Templars there are under the control of a demon going by ‘Imshael.’  A desire demon,” Cassandra replied, “We should prepare for that.”

Contrary to Paya’s expectations, there were very few visceral reactions to the removal of the vallaslin.  Still, she kept everyone in the dark about how or why–at least those who didn't already know.  So she was able to interact comfortably with her friends still–for the most part.

She sat on the bench Bull was residing on.  She said, “For now, though, we relax.”

“We brought food from the Inquisition camp,” Cassandra sat on Paya’s other side and handed her a satchel of food.

“Right.”

Dorian asked, “May I ask why we aren’t just staying in camp?”

“This puts us closer to the Keep,” Paya replied, “And it’s hidden.” She took a bite from a piece of jerky as she began to pass out dinner to the others.

“Great, I’m starving!” Khash took their food from her gleefully and sat between Dorian and Bull.  Cassandra settled in.  Solas and Cole were still quietly speaking near the edge of the camp.  Paya watched them for a moment.

“I suppose this isn’t so bad,” Dorian said.  “We haven’t spent time under the stars in a little while.”

“It reminds me of winter nights back home,” Khash hummed, “ Our hahren – er.. elder– would gather us all around the fire to tell stories until we fell asleep.  Or he’d volunteer one of us to relay our own stories.”

“That sounds like a good way to pass the time,” Dorian grinned.

Bull leaned forward on his good knee, “I have one from a job the Chargers did.  Khash, stop me if I’ve told it already.”

As the Iron Bull began to tell his tale, Paya made her way over to Solas and Cole.

“...despite all of that, I know what I must do,” Solas was finishing some statement, his eyes becoming glued to Paya as she neared.

She pulled a loaf of bread wrapped in a napkin from the inquisition camp’s satchel.  “I don’t know if you need to eat, Cole, but I’m sure Solas does.”  Solas looked at the bread and then her as she broke half of it off to hold out to him.  “It’s warmer by the fire,” she said softly.

After a pause, and a slight push on his arm from Cole, Solas took the bread.  “Thank you, Inquisitor.”

She smiled, “You can call me Paya still.”

“Cole, would you please join the others around the fire?” Solas asked.

Cole nodded, “You both wish to speak to each other privately.  It will be good.”  He smiled and took the other half of the bread as Paya offered it to him.  Tipping his head toward them, he made way.

The elves looked out into the frozen wilderness that was the Emprise.  There wasn’t much to look at from their viewpoint, nor was there nearly enough light to see what was.  It helped that they didn’t have to stare at each other, however.

“Then I suppose you don’t intend to do harm to me in some act of vengeance.” Solas was the first to speak.  His voice held humor within it.

“That would be Khash’s job,” she replied.

She didn’t see it, but she could hear the smile.  “As much as we butt heads, your brother has a good soul.  Young and still learning.”

Rubbing the cold out of her arms, she replied, “They were just starting to appreciate you too.”

They paused.  Hints of snowfall began to catch beyond the fire’s light.  

Solas took his staff from his back to lean on it.  “Inquisitor–” he sighed, “Paya.  Forgive me for the way I ended things between us.  I do not think it wise to take it back, but I do wish I did it differently.”

“Am I too similar to her?”

“Whom?”

“The one who gave you that necklace,” she said.

Solas’s hand absently tugged at the mandible.  “You two share little in common.  I believe you both impactful and strong leaders, however… she did not shy from violent means to an end.  You may fight when necessary, but I know you to seek diplomacy when possible.  You should not compare yourself too closely, Vhe–” his voice caught, “--Inquisitor.  She was my mentor.”

Paya herself absently played with a loose strand of hair, “Why did you end it?  I agree that we should focus on our duty but…”

Solas sighed again.  He dropped the jawbone and leaned on his staff again.  “It is difficult to explain.  Cole would describe it as old wounds and that is not too far from the truth.  I do not wish to see you harmed by them.”

“Wounds should be tended to, Solas,” she said.  It was subtle and well hidden, but he jumped when her arm brushed his.

He retorted, “It is too much to explain now.”

“I don’t think this will pull me from my duty as much as you think it will–”

“It will , Vhenan.” Solas interrupted.  She turned toward him, seeing he had turned fully toward her.  His eyes pleaded for her to take his word.  And so she did.

“Then after everything with Corypheus.  After we retrieve his orb.  After we fulfill our duty here... Please, Solas.”

He paused, staring at the face he stripped bare.  “I promise, Paya.  After everything.  We will talk about this.”

She nodded.  “Okay.”   She turned to go back to the others, “Come sit by the fire?”

He nodded, “ Ma nuvenin. ”.

Chapter Text

“Solas!”

The Inquisitor’s voice.

The color red is much more startling on the white of snow.  This injury was shallow.  He wasn’t going to die from this.  Perhaps that wasn’t clear to onlookers.

It took only a few seconds for the others to take notice.

And there she was, fingers cold as ice on his cheek.  She was so beautiful…

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

They found Michel de Chevin locked in combat with a small group of red templars as they approached Suledin Keep.  He was holding his own but was grateful when the Inquisition party joined in.  Changing the odds from three-to-one to three-to-seven, the templars were quickly defeated.

As they caught their breaths, Michel stopped Paya from leading the team into the Keep.  

“Bad news Herald,” he said, “Your efforts to drive off the red templars have not gone unnoticed.” He referred to previous excursions here they’d done for Cullen.  “Imshael knows we’re here,” he went on, “He has sent red templars after me, and a pack of shades descends now upon Sahrnia.  The people are defenseless.  I must return without delay.”

“Let me send someone with you,” Paya replied.

“No,” he retorted, “You need your forces to take the keep and destroy Imshael.  I can handle the shades.”

After a beat, Paya nodded to the rest of her team and Michel parted.

Entering the keep, they moved through several small groups of the red templars, primarily soldiers with a few mutated horrors spread out amongst them.  Khash had taken up an old bow to create an additional ranged unit.  There was some strategic reason for it; however, they just wanted to stay near their sister.

They picked up a few notes, old ones from Samson, as they moved through the keep, and soon came upon a sort of corridor with cells on one side.  Inside the cells were dead creatures: distorted mutations of giants and gurns–beasts not even native to the Emprise.  It was like they had developed a voracious mange, their skin turning sickly shades as red lyrium was laced through their veins.  In some areas, the rock had burst through skin and they all looked like they had died in agony.

“This is…” Khash mumbled, disgust written on their face.

“Let’s not linger here,” Paya said softly before placing a guiding hand on Khash’s back and pushing the group beyond the abominations. 

Soon, they found one of the more successful mutations–a giant– locked in combat with more of the templars.  The party joined the fray, however, the giant turned on them once the templars were dead.  Paya quickly backed away, putting up a wall of ice between the party and the lumbering beast.  Ice meant nothing to the creature, however, as it quickly tore the wall down and swung for the Inquisitor.  Cole grabbed onto her sleeve and pulled her away, Cassandra taking her place with her shield lifted.  The giant’s skin burst open as it collided with the shield, the glow of lyrium seeping out of it.  It attempted to swing at them with its other hand, which Bull intercepted with his axe, rending the hand from the wrist far easier than he should have been able to.  How the templars hadn’t killed it themselves before they arrived must have been some unfortunate miracle.  They quickly put the thing down.  It was a mercy.

They continued forward.

Soon, they entered a courtyard.  On the opposite side from them was a ramp leading further into the keep.  Atop it was one of the templar’s behemoths, a grotesquely mutated templar more red lyrium than human now.  A pair of archers and a handful of soldiers moved idly about nearby.

“Get ready for a fight.  Maybe keep a potion on hand,” Paya advised in a low voice.  Solas threw a barrier onto the melee fighters and they moved forward.

The Inquisition’s warriors charged at the soldiers, weaving around theri blades as the archers took aim nearby.  Khash put an arrow in one’s neck before he could fire at Bull.  The other, turned on the young Dalish as they knocked another arrow.  Cole danced around the behemoth, vanishing and reappearing randomly around it.  It swung its lyrium-infected limbs at the boy.  If he kept focused, the slow-moving monster was easy to avoid.    The mages backed Cole up, throwing sigils beneath the behemoth’s feet with each step.  Occasionally, when they found an opening, one of them would launch a spell into the creature, or onto one of the templar soliders Cassandra and Bull were up against.  The two made quick work of the smaller templars and were at the behemoth's ankles soon.  Khash had somehow managed to pin their archer down.  Sitting with their knees on the archer’s arms, they fired into the behemoth with explosive arrows.

Cole’s incessant disappearances finally enraged the beast, and it turned away from the rogue.  Instead, it charged at the nearest mage, Solas.  It knocked into him and pushed him into a wall.  

“Solas!”  Paya called out.

Khash pulled an extra arrow from their quiver and fired both into the behemoth's neck.  This distracted it long enough for Solas to get his arm free.  He grabbed the nearest patch of exposed flesh he could see and coated it in frost.  And then, without removing his hand, set off an explosion.  

The beast stumbled away from him. The Iron Bull came behind it as it staggered and made the final blow.

The party took a breather, passing around potions, only dealing with minor surface injuries.  

Once they had recollected, they continued.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Snow had begun falling.

The red lyrium became more and more prevalent the deeper into the fortress they went.  More templars were fought.  More letters to and from Samson were collected.  It almost felt too easy.

They took pause after one of their fights to recollect themselves again.  

“We are getting close to the demon,” Solas said, “Desire is quite powerful, so be prepared.”

Up ahead, the deep glow of red lyrium loomed out over the walls of another courtyard.  When they could see within, a single human figure looked back at them.  A single human figure stood within the courtyard, watching them.  Behind him was a Tevinter-made device holding a large shard of red lyrium.  Several smaller shards dotted the surrounding space.  

The figure smirked as they approached him.  His skin was a pale, unnatural translucent shade, showing dark veins beneath it.  His eyes were sunken and dark, his lips cracked and dry.  He looked like a man on the brink of death but held himself up with confidence.

The party approached, but stilled when he suddenly spoke out to them.

“Ah, the hero arrives!” he said in greeting, “But is it 'hero'?  Or 'murderer'?  It’s hard to tell.”

“This would be Michel de Chevin’s demon,” Khash said.

The figure’s confident expression fell into a scowl.  Shaking his head, he cleared his throat. “Choice. Spirit,” he corrected.  He stepped forward and Cassandra’s hand went to her sword.

“Well then, let us not wait to kill him,” she said.

The figure threw his hands in front of himself, “Wait! Wait.  Wait.”   He took several steps back and turned his attention directly to Paya, “These are your friends?  They’re very violent.  It’s worrying,” he spoke with an amicable tone, despite his nervous expression, “True to my name, I will show you that you have a choice!  It doesn’t always have to end in blood.”

Paya glanced back at the party, gauging their responses.  Their expressions were hardened on the man in front of them.  

“What gives me reason to trust you?” Paya asked.

He crossed his arms over his chest.  “I offer you a deal:  I get to walk away with my life, and you get something in return.  Power, riches.  Maybe even virgins.  Name your price.”

Paya reached for her staff.  “I don’t think so.  You’ve caused enough trouble here, demon.”

Imshael dropped his arms, exasperated, “Oh, for– Choice! Spirit!” His eyes began to glow a deep red, similar to that of the lyrium behind him.  His human form became distorted, its features twisting unnaturally, and then he was gone from sight.

Behind them, his voice echoed, “If you won’t be smart, then be afraid!”  

There was a sound akin to a whip crack as Dorian was struck from behind.  To regain his balance, he quickly turned heel, and Cassandra swept by him.  Solas pressed his hand to the Tevinter’s back, casting a healing spell as they quickly rearranged their positions.

The demon now presumed the shape of an attractive young man, with lavender-toned skin, all but naked in front of them.  Twisted around his hands was the whip he had attacked with, which gave off a menacing aura.

“You chose this, hero,” he taunted.  He flicked his wrist, throwing the length of the whip at them again.

Solas was barely able to get the barrier up in time.

The warriors fell on Imshael. Dorian cast a sigil of fire beneath the demon’s feet, the sudden blast knocking him onto a shaft of ice Paya pulled up from the ground.

Imshael hissed and summoned a ball of dark energy over his palm.  “If you stop this now, the offer still stands, hero!”

Paya responded with a twirl of her staff.  As it kicked back around, she jabbed its blade into the ground; electricity arced off of it and into the demon.  His spell hit her in the chest, pushing her into Solas beside her.  He took her hand and passed a healing spell over her.

The demon darted around the group again, this time not bothering to disguise his movement.  He created another ball of energy in his palm, then brushed it over the length of his whip.  It struck Khash next, knocking their bow from their hands and creating deep cuts into their gloves.

Dorian pulled Khash to his side and whirled a fireball onto the demon.  Imshael spun around the fire, picking it up and throwing it back to the Tevinter.  Cassandra jumped in front and shielded them from the blow.  They were moved a few feet from where they stood previously, but they were all still upright.

The demon stuck its bottom lip out in a pout.  “Neither of us is really putting a dent into the other, are we?” he asked.  “I suppose I should change that.”

Imshael began to change shape again.

“I don’t think so!” Khash scrambled to gather their bow up, shooting at Imshael.  He weaved around the wave of arrows.   His transformation paused and he sent a wave of energy at the party.  Able to avoid it, Cole ran forward and ran Imshael through with both of his daggers before the demon realized the spirit was upon him.

Imshael snarled and threw Cole away, into Bull nearby.  Then his form shifted rapidly.  His shoulders contorted and his back split open.  Arachnid limbs sprung outward and he stepped into the form of a fear demon.  Black blood began to seep through the gray drapery he now donned.

Seemingly from nowhere, several fearlings skittered underfoot as the battle resumed.  The party’s attention was divided but Paya kept on Imshael.  Another barrier dropped onto her as the demon moved in close to her to strike.  He sliced open her cheek, then wound back to hit her again.  She knocked the appendage away with her staff.  He tried to strike yet again, but she stepped forward, into a fade step, and through him.  He spun around to follow her, not realizing he was coming directly into the Bull’s axe.  

The blow sent him tumbling into the Inquisitor and she created a vortex beneath him to keep him in place, then she ducked away as Solas threw a fist of collected stones into Imshael’s face.  And then Khash’s arrows came again, this time hitting their mark.  The so-called choice spirit fell onto his knees.

“Always the violent solutions with you,” he grumbled.  His form began to change once again, melting onto the snow before bursting upward.

The shape of a pride demon towered above them. Before giving the party time to react, he threw a hand into the air, calling down several bolts of lightning onto them.  Solas darted into the center of the spell and threw his hands outward.  A gust of wind surged outward from him and the lighting stopped immediately.

“I’ve about had it with you fucking mage types,” Imshael growled and welled up the lightning in his hands instead.  

“Solas!”  Cassandra called out, running to his side.  Tapping into her Seeker abilities, she created an anti-magic field around the two of them.  Solas would be unable to cast a spell, but they were close enough to Imshael that neither could he.  

Since his magic continued to be halted in its tracks, the demon decided to go with brute force.  He found a bit of broken wall nearby and tossed it into the air over the party.

“Scatter!”  Paya commanded, and so they did.  The snow and dirt kicked up by the impact concealed Imshael’s movement and he appeared behind Paya.  He grabbed her by the collar of her coat and hoisted her into the air.  And then threw her into a wall.  The wind was knocked out of her and she curled up on the ground coughing for a good moment.  The debris had settled by then, however, and the rest of the party descended upon Imshael.

The demon snarled as he fought.  He already appeared to be worn down despite not holding this form for very long.  Just a few good hits would finish him off.

Paya was on her feet again, rejoining her friends as they hacked at Imshael.  Cassandra had dropped the anti-magic field and the other two mages were abusing the returned access to the Fade.  Ice mines, fire mines, horrific imagery invented by Dorian, the rending force of Solas’s rift magic, all combined to bring the demon to his knees.

He shrank to the first human form he had appeared to them in.  Desperation laced into his voice, he made an attempt at a deal again.

"Tel’re min vir, lethallen!" he barked.  “Ask anything and I will give it!”

Khash nocked an arrow and took aim.  “Keep our language out of your mouth.”

Paya stepped toward him, readying another spell in her palm.  “We don’t make deals with demons,” she said.

There was a brief moment as the spell charged where they simply watched each other.  Enough time for Imshael to attempt to fight back again.  She didn’t realize what had happened until she hit the snow.  

Imshael had drawn a blade.  Her response time wasn’t fast enough, focused on her magic in hand.  She was shoved away from Imshael by a pair of hands.  Other than hitting the ground rather hard, she was unharmed.  She heard the sound of several blades ripping through cloth and flesh.  Imshael was dead before she sat up.

Imshael’s blood on the snow was red, reflecting the human form he had taken.  It was stark against the white.

Bull helped Paya onto her feet. “Looks like everything’s cleared now,” he grinned.

She smiled, “There should be a flagpole around here somewhere.”

The thud of knees hitting the stone drew their attention.  Solas knelt in front of Imshael, clutching his stomach.  Red was slowly soaking through his robe.

He’d been injured before.  This was not a new sight.  But still, Paya panicked.  “Solas!”

He blinked and lifted his eyes toward her.   He was not looking at her, rather through her.  Her feet moved before her mind did and she was sitting in front of him holding his face briefly before moving to inspect the injury.  

Solas leaned into her.  “Vhenan...” he half-whispered.

“Dorian, help me,” she said quickly, “You’re better at healing than I am.”

Dorian joined her on the ground.  She turned the tall elf’s body toward him, and Dorian pulled Solas’s hand away from the injury.  “It’s shallow,” he said, “A potion might be all we need.”

Imshael’s dagger had been knocked across the ground when the others went for him.  It sat so harmlessly just a few feet away.  Khash picked up Solas’s dropped staff and poked the dagger around to inspect it.  

“No lyrium on it,” they announced.

“Thank you, love,” Dorian called over without turning his head.  He already had a potion in hand, uncorking it with his teeth.  “Drink up, Solas.”

Cassandra approached, “Let’s claim the keep, Inquisitor.”

Paya nodded slowly.  Leaving Solas and Dorian where they were, she followed Cassandra to a nearby flagpole and they both hoisted the Inquisition’s banner.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

They remained in the Emprise for another day to ensure everyone had recovered from their injuries. The Inquisition sent men to ensure the keep remained in their own hands.  The region would be under Inquisition protection until further notice.

Soon, Paya and her friends were on their way back to Skyhold.  

As Dorian had stated, all Solas needed was a health potion.  But, to quell the Inquisitor’s worried mind, he took special care to pass a healing spell over the injury.  It would scar, but that was all.

While in camp, a day away from their fortress, Paya pulled Solas away to speak with him again.

“I don’t suppose taking a dagger makes up for the pain I put you through,” Solas joked half-heartedly.

She shook her head.  “No.  Despite my grief, I’d rather not see you hurt.  I still love you.”

He smiled.  It felt… real this time.  Like he wasn’t using it to conceal some other emotion.  He had kept the mask up since he ended their relationship.  She took this as a good sign.

“I still love you as well,” he said.  “I meant it when I said I would speak with you about us after everything.”

“You can’t do that if you get yourself killed,” she crossed her arms.  He chuckled but said nothing in response.  After a pause, she pulled her glove from her anchored hand and held it out to him.  He delicately cupped the back of her hand, moving her wrist so he could look at the anchor.

“Is it causing you pain?”

“It’s been sore since that last rift I closed.”

He passed his hand over it. His face was briefly illuminated with the familiar blue of his healing magic and the ache was soothed.  She pulled her hand back to herself.

“You should get rest, Inquisitor,” he said softly after a moment.

She nodded slowly.  “Make sure you wake Bull in an hour.  You can’t keep watch all night.”

“ Ma nuvenin. ”

She smiled.  “On nydha,” she said.  She returned to her tent, leaving him be with the fire and the horizon.

She slept well that night.

Chapter Text

“Sister Nightingale wishes to see you.  It’s urgent,” an elven agent found Paya in Dorian’s nook, sitting with Alexander.  Dorian was said to be canoodling with Khash and the Iron Bull somewhere.  She had convinced Alexander to teach her some basic Tevene.  She wasn’t making much progress.

“Go on, Paya,” Alexander encouraged.

Paya closed the notebook she had been taking notes in and sat it down nearby.  “Where is she?”

The agent gave a short bow, “In the gardens, Your Worship.”

Paya followed the agent to the gardens, nearly running into Leliana as they entered.

“There you are, Inquisitor!” she grabbed Paya’s hand and began to pull her toward the Eluvian room.  “Morrigan chased after her son into the Eluvian. She was terrified.”

“Wait, Leliana, what happened?” Paya paused in the entryway.  “The Eluvian?”

Leliana kept going.  “She said he activated the mirror somehow.  And then she ran into it.  I have never seen Morrigan like that, you must go in after her!  I’m already sending for help.”

Paya imagined that help to be Solas, but she wasn’t certain where he was at that moment.  “I’ll be back soon, Leliana,” she said before jogging through the Eluvian.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The air was cold and her hair stood up on end as it did when she cast spells with low mana.  The sky was green and murky, and around her was the mangled formation of earth and rubble. This was the raw Fade.

She could do nothing but walk forward.  

Then there was Morrigan, standing in a clearing up ahead. Panic-stricken and head on a swivel, she caught sight of the elven Inquisitor.

“Inquisitor?  What are– Nevermind.  Help me find Kieran!  Before it’s too late!”  Morrigan barely looked at the other woman as she approached, only a mother’s worry present.

“Kieran?  Your son?”  Paya immediately began scanning the area.

“Why would Kieran do this? How could he do this?” Morrigan pleaded to no one.  Turning toward Paya she tried to explain,  “We stand in the Fade.  To redirect the Eluvian here would require immense power.”  Paya took her arm and began to walk her forward.  They kept their eyes moving, hoping that the boy would appear around every corner they passed.  Morrigan continued, “If he is lost to me now, after all, I have sacrificed…”

“I promise you, Morrigan, that we’ll find him,” the Inquisitor replied.

“The Fade is infinite, he could literally be anywhere.”  Morrigan pulled her arm away and picked up her pace.  “Whatever happens to him now is my doing. I sent him on this path.”

“Then let us continue looking for him, Morrigan.”  Paya caught up and took her arm with a gentler grasp, “We’ll get him back to you.”

They moved forward.  There wasn’t a nook or cranny that Morrigan’s eyes missed as they darted to and fro.  Soon, a small clearing in the rubble approached. Within it stood young Kieran in front of a tall woman who knelt in front of him.

“There he is!”  Morrigan exclaimed, hurrying forward.

The woman stood regally, speaking quietly with the boy.  Long-whitened hair sat behind her shoulders with sections on either side of her head styled into the shape of dragon’s horns.  She wore reds and silvers fashioned into leather armor that hugged her like a corset.

Paya moved to catch up with her.  “Who is that standing with him?”

Green light passed between the old woman and boy, some sort of magic.  It wasn’t any spell Paya recognized.  

As soon as Morrigan approached, Kieran turned to greet her.

“Mother!” he said excitedly.

Morrigan stood firm in front of them.  A mix of fear and anger swelled in her eyes.  “Mother.”

Slowly, the woman rose to her feet, a pleased grin making its appearance.  “Now isn’t this a surprise?”

“What are you doing with Morrigan’s son?” Paya stopped at Morrigan’s side.  A chill threatened her spine as she did.

“He came to see his grandmother, like a good lad.  I’m told sense often skips a generation,” the woman said.

“Kieran is not your grandson.  Let him go!”  Morrigan ordered.

“As if I were holding the boy hostage,” the woman replied before turning her eyes on the Inquisitor, “She’s always been ungrateful you see.”

“Ungrateful?”  Morrigan sputtered, “I know how you plan to extend your life, wicked crone!  You will not have me, and you will not have my son!”  She stepped forward, a purple light forming between her hands.

The woman sighed and looked to the Inquisitor again, “Be a good lass and restrain her,”  as she spoke, her eyes briefly lit in a pale blue light.

Paya felt herself go rigid, and then she reached out to Morrigan, grabbing onto her arms.

“What are you doing!”  Morrigan startled and then repeated, “What… are you doing?”

“I don’t know!”  Paya replied.

The woman retorted, “Of course you know.  You drank from the well.”

Both of the younger women turned toward her aghast.