Fen'lath landed on her knees in the chamber where Morrigan kept her Eluvian after tumbling out of the mirror. The whispers of the Well filled her mind, a cacophony of voices all saying the same word. Nan. Revenge. Vengeance. Or was it Justice?
Corypheus had murdered the Well's Sentinels, despoiled the Temple of Mythal in his quest to become a god. Fen raised a dusty palm to her head, wincing against the sheer force of the noise in her skull. She couldn't focus on a single thought for more than a moment, but she tried. There were so many consequences to the situation; Abelas and the few remaining Sentinels should be offered a place at Skyhold, and a chance to help her cut the mad, Blight-riddled magister down. If they could be found again, or if any survived…. The voices rang again, scattering her thoughts once more, nan, nan, nan.
"Vhenan?" The gentle touch of Solas's hand on her shoulder quieted the voices. She looked up at him, saw the pain in his face at the losses of the Temple.
He was one of them.
All the little pieces started to fall into place. His knowledge of the Fade and spirits, his perfect command of Elvhen, all that he knew of Arlathan. Solas was one of the ancients, from before the fall. He knew then what had been lost at the Well, felt it more keenly than she did.
I hope you find a new name.
Was Solas really his name? Fen searched his stormcloud eyes, wondering if he had taken a new name on waking up in this new era. Worry was replacing the pain on his face as she remained silent. He knelt in front of her, touched her face gently, thumb running over one of Mythal's branches as it wandered over her cheekbones.
"Vhenan, please."
"I'm- sorry, it's a bit overwhelming."
"I can understand that. You are still yourself?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
There was a flash of the anger Solas had displayed when she chose to drink, quickly replaced by concern. "The Well."
"It was a bit loud in there for a moment or two, but the whispers have quieted. I'm still myself."
His eyes closed in relief. Solas stood up, and reached out a hand. Fen took it and pulled herself up to standing. His arms folded around her, and she rested her forehead on his chest. A few whispers fluttered across her consciousness. Fen. Fen! Fen!
At least they learned my nickname quickly, she thought sardonically.
Her people's history, and Solas's own personal history, had been wrecked in the name of a man who saw their pointed ears and thought them lesser. The irony of Corypheus grasping for the Well, while seeing the people who had created it as little more than vermin was not lost on her.
When she finished hunting him down and tore him to pieces, it would be a satisfying vengeance.
Title and story inspired by 'Hunt You Down' by The Hit House