Chapter Text
Living in a human town was strange. Haven was heavily human, but that was a war camp. Skyhold was a fortress in constant flux. But Wycome was permanent. We had been settled there for nearly two years now, living side by side with humans and city elves as equals. Just one big melting pot in the Free Marches.
In the woods, I used to climb trees when I needed to be alone, finding a high enough branch to sit on and watch the world below. Here, the ornamental trees in the city were too small to hold even an elf, but the city walls were sturdy and high with a great view. My legs dangled below me, and the breeze carried the smell of the forest to the edge of the city. Here, I could lose myself for just a little while…
“Inquisitor!”
A very little while, apparently. I sighed and jerked my head towards the sound. One of the city elves was running up the ramparts with a look of urgency. Resigned, I swung my legs back over the wall's edge and hopped down to meet him. “You don’t need to call me that, Eraven. I’m not actually the Inquisitor anymore.”
“Apologies, my lady. Or, uh, ma’am. Or–”
“Just Sarissa is fine,” I said, trying to ease his nervousness with a smile, “no need for formalities.”
“Thank you, ma’am. Or– I, uh… the Keeper sent me for you. Something about the hall… hull…”
“The halla?” I asked.
“Right. They’re acting weird or something. Said you would know best how to handle them,” he said. I noticed him sneaking furtive glances at my arm, apparently trying and failing to be subtle.
“You can ask, you know. I don’t mind,” I said as I rolled up my sleeve to bare the prosthetic. From just above the elbow, my left arm turned from flesh and bone to metal and magic; a lyrium-enchanted replacement for the lost arm crafted by the Inquisition’s master enchanter, Dagna. The lyrium softly glowed throughout it, like blue veins running through a cold steel arm, and gave the entire thing a low and subtle hum of magic. It allowed the arm to respond to my thoughts like I had never lost the limb, and gave it the ability to cast small spells like a portable staff.
“Is… that how you controlled the rifts?” Eraven asked.
I smiled softly, “no, the Mark is gone for good. This was just a gift from a friend.”
“So it’s true what they say, then? About your arm? That the Dread Wolf cut it off and left you for dead with the qunari?” The boy barely stopped for breath as he asked, wide eyed and eager for a terrible story of war and betrayal.
I winced at the mention of Solas. “Not… not exactly, no,” I replied. It had been two years since I had last seen him, since I chased him through the Crossroads to try and reclaim whatever I mistakenly believed we had. Two years since I learned the truth about who he really was. Two years trying to get over a broken heart and pick up the shattered pieces of my faith, which I knew now I could never get back. I spent that time trying not to think of Solas or the revelations he so thoughtfully shared, and succeeding a little bit more every day.
Still, even if I had wanted to get into my disastrous relationship history, I wasn’t ready to share the truth about the elven gods with anyone. We had already lost enough since the fall of the Dales, and I could not be the one to overturn all of Dalish history and throw away everything we had tried to preserve of our ancestors. And what good would it do? Without proof, no one would believe I was anything more than a blasphemer; and if they did believe me, the Dalish would never recover from the loss of all we held sacred. The rest of my clan already believed I had lost my faith and connection to our people after spending so long in human lands. Better that they keep believing that. The Keeper had a new First to uphold our traditions, and I was free of my obligations. All I was good for anymore was using my experience to keep up the relations between us and the natives of Wycome.
Eraven seemed to sense that he wouldn’t be getting his tale. “I see…” he said, “I apologize for prying, my lady.”
“It’s fine, lethallan,” I replied, “I offered. What does the Keeper need me for?”
“Um, the halla in the east pen,” he said, stumbling a bit over the word, “he just thinks there’s something wrong with them.”
“Probably restless, all penned up like that. They’re not like human cattle, they need to roam,” I sighed, “I’ll handle this. Thank you, Eraven.”
“Yes, miss,” he said, seeming a bit nervous, like he was unsure of the protocol for simply talking to me. He was not the only one; as I walked through the city, humans and city elves came to their windows and doors, stopped their transactions or conversations, looking to catch a glimpse of “the Inquisitor.” My clan, on the other hand, tried not to be caught staring at my bare face, perhaps expecting to see some trace left of the vallaslin. Just more proof that I had forsaken our ways, probably. Aside from the Keeper, they asked no questions about it, and I volunteered nothing. The rest of the city had no such qualms about asking for stories about Corypheus or the Venatori, and even without the Mark, there were still plenty who believed wholeheartedly that I was a vessel of their prophet. Varric didn’t help with his storytelling, but mercifully, he didn’t put it in print. It was only another reminder that, even with the Inquisition disbanded, I couldn’t simply return to a normal life.
Thankfully, the pens were emptier - the smell was good for one thing, at least. The halla weren’t normally kept this close to the city, but it wasn’t the first time a well meaning farmer did us the “favor” of bringing our herds in with their own. “Poor things,” I muttered to myself. They were used to the open plains, but the best we could give them now was free pasture. One halla in particular seemed exceedingly agitated, as if the walls of the pen were closing in on him. “It’s not fun being cooped up in weather this nice, is it?” I said as I unlatched the gate. He shot out like an arrow to the fields, and the rest weren’t far behind. They must have been cooped up for a while to be so anxious, I thought to myself. Without the halla, a stillness settled over the area; even the wind seemed to disappear. Why would the Keeper send for me just to let the halla out? And where were the other cattle, if some farmer had accidentally brought them in? I instinctively reached behind me for my staff; not there, of course. This was still a human city, and I no longer had a reason to practice magic in public if I wanted to stay on the Chantry’s good side. I concentrated and felt a flicker of energy build in the tips of my left fingers. Where were all the people? The pens were always sparsely populated, but not deserted. A crinkle of leaves behind me made me turn in an instant, ready to strike – but there was no need. “Oh, Eraven,” I said as I let out a sigh of relief, “I was just–”
And a loud crack from behind silenced the world.
***
The world around me came back all at once – too suddenly, according to the pain shooting through my head. I hesitated to open my eyes to the bright room. The next thing I noticed was that I couldn’t move; I was tied to a chair with my arms bound behind me. I tried once to bring a spell to my hand. However, the effort brought the dull ache to a roaring thunder in my head. No go on that, I thought as I braced myself to fully open my eyes.
The light wasn’t as harsh as it had felt the first time, as windows and stained glass flooded the marble and stone chamber with warm natural light. Water ran through the room, and plants sprang up through cracks in the ground. And the wall, too; the foliage didn’t seem to care where “outside” ended and “in here” began. Mosaics lining the walls were the give away, as I had only ever seen them in one place - the temple of Mythal. This building, wherever it was, was ancient. My ancestors must have walked these halls once, before the fall of Arlathan. Maybe even–
No. I shook his memory from my mind again, even if the shaking motion made the world start spinning. He had left, and he was better off forgotten. I turned my face upwards instead and caught sight of a beautiful stained glass mural covering the ceiling. Whether by the playful dancing of the light across its features, or old elven magic lingering in place, the colors and lines of the glass almost seemed to dance. The scene depicted was unmistakable; Elgar’nan, leader of the elven gods, locked in battle with his father, the sun, as he ripped him from the heavens. The story was as familiar to the Dalish as the trees were, and though the subject matter was grim, the art was captivating. Maybe Solas was wrong, I thought, if someone from his time would make art like this of the gods.
“Admiring my masterpiece?” came a booming voice. A man - elf? - had entered the chamber. He was a towering presence, almost like a mountain. I would have taken him for human or qunari if not for the pointed ears. He carried a staff across his back, and his armor shone like fire. His gaze was harsh, and his face smug, like a child besting another at play.
“Where am I?”
“Forgive me, but I’m not sure how to address you these days,” he said, “herald, Inquisitor, amashiral… you’re losing titles quickly, aren’t you?”
His self-pleased smirk was infuriating, but I refused to shirk from his question like he did from mine. “I imagine that makes me kind of useless as a captive. Good luck ransoming off a nobody.”
“I have no need for your mortal coin,” he said, unnervingly calm, “your value to me lies another way.”
I had no clue what he meant, but the way he said it made me feel like something inside me was curdling. I tried to call up my magic again, but it was no use.
“Your bindings are not so easily broken, mortal. I have planned this for far too long to take chances,” he said, “tests upon tests, all failing where you succeeded. I will not stand for such an affront. Until I realized; why should I settle for creating cheap imitations, when I can simply take the original?”
“‘The original?’ The original what? Like you said, I’ve done a lot the last few years. You’ve got to be more specific,” I said.
He barked out a cruel sounding laugh. “The original experiment . The original mistake . The sole mortal who, against all probability, bore the power to sunder the Heavens and live,” he answered. “You will surrender your secrets to me, child. I will know how it is that you can open the Veil.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at him. That’s what this was about? “Well then, I suppose you can keep being disappointed. I don’t have the Mark anymore, and even if I did, you couldn’t use it without my say,” I said, and then bolder, “so I guess I am worthless to you, after all.”
“You have another arm,” he said coldly, “and I will know what is different about you.”
Behind him, slowly creeping along the high branch of a tree, a figure caught my eye. Clad in dark colors, he saw me and brought a finger to his lips. Don’t stare, I thought, keep him talking. I had no way of knowing whose side the infiltrator was on, but I hoped he was here for me.
“I’m afraid I have no more answers than you do,” I said, keeping my face and tone in check, “the Mark was an accident, and it’s long gone. Nothing left to experiment on. I’m not even sure how it happened.”
“The power to shape the heavens in the hands of a child, fumbling in the dark without knowing what she holds,” he replied, “I have attempted to recreate this ‘mark’ on so many. Warriors, scholars, mages, even these pathetic races that now walk the earth. Yet none have withstood the power I bestowed upon them.” In a few long steps, he crossed the room and grabbed my face hard, turning me to face him like a harsh parent to a child. “So what do you have that they lack?”
“Something you have no right to touch,” spat a voice from the doorway. A voice I knew well - too well.
The man dropped his attention from me suddenly. He barked a harsh laugh. “Fen Harel. Prideful as always, to face me alone.”
“And you are just as rash and short sighted as ever,” replied Solas as the man grew nearer. I saw the subtle shimmer of a barrier on him, but it appeared he didn’t need it. For the moment, at least.
“Shh, don’t make a sound,” came a woman’s voice from behind me, “pretend I’m not here, and don’t move a muscle until I tell you.” I nodded once silently, and she went to work. I felt warmth crawling along my ankles where the restraints were and saw a glimpse of green light from the edge of my vision. Veilfire?
“You cannot hope to defeat me, Solas. I have grown stronger in your prison while you slept. You remain nothing but an indolent child with delusions of grandeur,” the man said, “you could have been one of us! But your misguided sympathy for those beneath you cost you everything. Temples, riches, servants-”
“You mean slaves,” Solas interrupted. He kept his usual calm exterior, but behind his eyes, a fire burned. “I refuse to brand any of our people like cattle, to be cast aside when they are used up.”
Suddenly, the man in front of me didn’t look like a man anymore. I did not see in him the All-Father, protector of elves. I saw only the God of Vengeance, burning with fury like in his mural above us. Elgar'nan.
“You may as well free dogs from their masters as free those who are so far beneath you, foolish child,” Elgar’nan replied.
As the reality of where I was began to dawn on me, I too felt rage begin to burn in my chest. Solas, who disappeared without a word. Solas, who won my heart in one breath just to break it in the next. Solas, who promised me answers only to leave for three years before coming back to shatter everything I had ever believed in. And now he shows up, only to drag me into more trouble.
Behind me, the warmth of the veilfire faded and my limbs felt free, but I did not dare move before whatever signal I was meant to wait for. Solas glanced in our direction and apparently saw whatever it was he waited for. He nodded briefly, and the voice behind me spoke up. “Get ready to stand,” she whispered.
Solas turned his attention back to Elgar’nan with a smirk on his lips. “Na banal dirth’an,” he said. A nudge from behind prompted me to rise, and then the world warped around me as I was pulled swiftly across the room by some unseen force. A moment of dizziness passed and I found myself flush against a broad chest cloaked in furs, steadying myself in the arms of someone I had expected (and hoped) to never see again.
“Take a moment, vhenan,” said a soft voice. I blinked a few times as the world turned back right side up, leaning heavily against the figure in front of me. As I looked up into concerned gray eyes, fire swelled in my chest again. I let go of Solas and balled up my hands into fists, beating on his chest as I pushed myself away. “Fenedhis lasa! Ir din’an na! How could you!” I yelled, tears threatening to well up in my eyes. I wanted no part of this. I had no desire to be caught up in his schemes, or rescued by him, or to be standing this close to someone I couldn’t stand as much as him.
“I…” he looked behind us, his eyes darting around the room, “now is not the time.”
“Don’t-”
“Go!” Solas pushed me through the open doorway just as a ball of fire soared our way.
We tore through the hallways, Solas leading me by the hand through the labyrinth of passages. Warmth crept up behind us as our attacker pursued, but he was delayed by incessant traps and distractions. “Did you do that?” I asked Solas. No reply, only half of a glance in my direction as we maintained our burning speed. “Where are we? Where are we going?”
“There’s an eluvian in this temple that will take us back through the Crossroads. We will escape through there,” he replied. “What happened? How did you get here?”
“Oh, I was spelunking for ancient ruins with a false god, obviously,” I quipped back, ducking beneath a bolt of fire as it flew overhead, “how do you think?”
“Did they hurt you?” He asked as he sent his own spell back.
“No, he politely asked me to get in the chair and I tied myself up. It’s been a very pleasant kidnapping.”
Solas pulled us down a narrow hallway as two of his agents sped past us, luring away a gaggle of summoned spirits. He checked to make sure they kept going, then turned his attention to me. A warm glow emanated from his hands, and began to look me over. “Let me see,” he said earnestly.
My breath caught. “I… no, I’m fine,” I said, looking past him, “really, now’s not the time. We should keep going.”
He hesitated for a moment, searching my face for… something, before agreeing. “It’s not much farther. Through here.”
We turned down another hall. “What was that spell you did back there?” I asked, “It was like… like being pulled, or maybe teleported? But not. It felt strange.”
Solas chuckled. “Did you like it? I can show you how to cast it, if you like.”
“I’ve just never seen a spell exactly like it before,” I answered, “I was wondering if it was some ancient party trick.”
“The idea came from Ser Blackwall, actually,” he said, taking my hand for another quick turn, “I watched him train new recruits with his grappling hook technique, and it gave me the idea to develop a way to do something similar with magic. It’s… a bit like a spirit tether, using the energy of the Fade itself to pull an object or person to a new spot. You should be able to learn it without difficulty, if you like, with your rift magic training.”
“I’ll pass,” I said. The last thing Solas needed was something else to feed his ego, like showing off his shiny new spells.
We stopped before another turn, the sounds of a battle just beyond it. Solas peered around the corner, and I looked from behind him. A handful of darkly cloaked elves fought against dark shades, surrounding Elgar’nan himself. “I’m guessing that’s the way we need to go?” I asked.
“There’s more than one path, fortunately,” Solas answered, “this way.”
A few more turns brought us to a shimmering eluvian, like the one Morrigan had brought to Skyhold. “Where are we going, exactly?”
“Not here, it isn’t safe,” he answered, “we don’t know who might be listening. Just stay close.”
We slipped through the portal just as our pursuer caught sight of us, and landed in the dizzying array of identical mirrors that made up the Crossroads. Solas led us through one of the dozens of mirrors without pause; he had control of the eluvians, of course, so he likely knew the pathways between them like the back of his hand. Without that knowledge, all Elgar’nan could do was search them all. “How did you know I was here?” I asked as we walked into a crowded alley.
“I have sources,” was all he was keen to reveal, “when one of them told me of his plans, I put together my own. Here,” He draped a fur cloak over my head and shoulders, pulling the hood slightly over my face before covering his own. He paused to look at me, then moved to adjust the buckle before I jerked away.
“I can do it myself,” I said curtly, fastening the clasp. “How long have you known this was going to happen?”
He turned away slowly and we continued walking. “Not long. Just a few days. By the time I had heard of it, his plan was already in motion. Interfering sooner would have had… other consequences,” he said as he led us through another mirror to a seaside port. “I am sorry I wasn’t quicker.”
“Can we stop for a moment?” I said. My lungs were burning from the rapid pace. “Every one of your steps is like three of mine. It feels like you’re practically dragging me behind you.”
“We do have reason to be in such a hurry,” he replied, looking over our shoulders.
“Well, I’m sure he’s tired, too. Maybe he stopped off for a pint back in that town,” I said as I leaned against a ship to catch my breath. I thought for a moment before asking the question at the front of my mind. “Was that really who I think it was?”
He stopped beside me, eyes darting around impatiently. “That depends on who you believe it was.”
I threw an annoyed look at him. “I don’t feel like playing games, Solas. You know who I mean. We were in a temple to Elgar’nan. He called me ‘mortal.’ He obviously knew you. So, he’s either a very ambitious fan, or…”
Solas continued to scan our surroundings, either looking for followers or refusing to meet my eyes. “You are correct,” was all the reply he made. “Now come, we’ve wasted long enough here,” he said as he grabbed my hand and resumed our brisk run to an open warehouse. Another eluvian waited for us inside, leading to a cave. He very obviously did not want to discuss this further, but unfortunately for him, I didn’t give half a halla shit about what he wanted.
Maybe as much to annoy him as to enlighten myself, I pressed it anyways. “Alright, this might be a normal day at work for you, but I am very much retired from public life. So would you mind terribly explaining to me what the hell is happening and why you had to drag me into it?” I asked as we stepped out of the cave into a grassy field.
“You seem to already know some of it,” he answered as we began to trek towards a small cottage.
“Cut the crap, I want answers. I’m serious.”
“Oh? That’s unexpected,” he replied with the hint of a grin, which withered as I cut my eyes at him. Solas opened the door of the cottage to a ransacked little room with dusty cabinets and moth-eaten furniture. He kicked aside a well worn rug to reveal a small hatch in the floor. “Lethallan, we are running out of time. I promise, I will answer all of your questions; but for now, we must keep moving.”
“I’ve heard that before,” I scoffed as he helped me lower myself into the earthen cellar. Another eluvian glowed in front of me, illuminating the room and showing a rippling image of a familiar castle beyond its frame. “How many castles do you need to be a rebel god, anyways?” I muttered. I had been here before, of course, when Solas covertly “helped” our battle against the qunari invasion – and doomed the Inquisition.
“Skyhold is too widely known, but I have taken great care to ensure that very few people know about this refuge,” he said, “we will be safe here.”
As we stepped through the mirror, I believed that. The Refuge was multiple buildings, all connected by eluvians, and surrounded by fields for as far as the eye could see. There were no roads or ports, only footpaths and babbling streams that did not go far. It didn’t seem far fetched to think that the eluvians were the only way in or out. We crossed a small bridge and entered part of the main castle proper, walls covered in hand-painted murals that had only confused me last time I was here. I should have recognized his hand behind these. Just like the murals at Skyhold, I thought. But these murals showed different scenes: images of slaves having their faces stolen, bloody battles between great armies, and an omnipresent wolf guiding the down-trodden to a new life. It all held new meaning now, after learning how this palace had been used in centuries past. Vallaslin being used to mark elves as property to one evanuris or another, and a young rebel leading them against the would-be gods. Writing on the walls, in dialects so ancient they were almost unrecognizable, promised safety under the banner of the Dread Wolf - a mocking nickname worn as a battle cry. I had studied the world of my ancestors nearly my whole life, but these paintings reminded me that I truly knew nothing. We truly knew nothing. I would have loved to spend hours here, studying the stories from Arlathan’s darkest hours. Were it not for the company.
“There are few people here, but it should serve our needs for now,” Solas said, “I will have someone prepare a room for you so that–”
“There’s no need for that. I don’t plan on staying,” I said.
“Vhenan, it is dangerous. You cannot–”
“Stop!” I snapped back, louder than I meant to. “Stop calling me that. You were the one who decided, time and time again, that there was nothing between us. You forfeited that willingly. You do not get to flit in and out of my life when it suits you and try to pick up where you left off,” I continued as I turned away, trying to hold in the tears pooling behind my eyes.
Solas took a breath and a small step away before replying. “I… understand that you are upset. I do not blame you for being angry with me,” he said. I scoffed at him as I crossed my arms; angry was not even adequate.
“But,” he continued, “it is not safe outside of here. If you leave these halls, I cannot protect you, and he is still out there looking for you.” He practically spat the word, like he couldn’t stand to speak of him. “You cannot imagine what he is capable of, vhe– …”
“I know it’s dangerous. That’s why I can’t stay,” I said, “I don’t need your protection, but my clan needs mine. They can’t stand against an enemy this big, and I can’t let them take that fall for me.” I began to walk away, my breaths coming shallower with every step. Tears began to trickle down my cheeks of their own accord, slowly, but threatening to let loose a storm any moment.
“Where are you going?” Solas said, following behind me.
“To find a mirror,” I answered, without turning around, “which of them can take me to Wycome?”
“I am not taking you to the first place any more captors will look for you.”
“Then I suppose it’s a good thing I didn’t ask you to come.”
“You… Sarissa, you don’t even know where you’re going,” he said as I rounded a corner, passing an elf with a small stack of books, “you don’t know this castle, or the paths that the eluvians take. You’ll just end up going in circles.”
“Well, I’m not staying. So if you won’t tell me where to go, I’ll just figure it out on my own.” I spotted an eluvian that led to gods know where, but anywhere that led away from here would be welcome.
“Wait!” Solas said, catching me by the arm. I stopped short at the unexpected contact, my breath catching in my throat again. I was just a few feet from the mirror, a few feet from escaping this confrontation, but my feet would not take those few steps. Eyes, don’t betray me now, I pleaded as I turned to face him with what I hoped was a stony expression. He looked pleadingly into my watery eyes and simply whispered, “please, lethallan.”
I shook my arm from his grasp and looked away from him. “Ma harel lasa. Ir tel’lethallan na,” I said as I turned to step through the portal.