Chapter 1 Begin
It has been a long year, for the one we call Inquisitor.
Once a simple spy, lost in a remnant, of the Elven Clan Lavellan.
She now holds one of the most powerful thrones in all Thedas.
Even still, it's hard for some to believe, they would see reason in an elf.
However, the world is changing. Hope – it seems – has outweighed prejudice.
After the defeat of Corypheus, the world all stopped to look on their Herald. Even still, there are those who oppose her. Her presence is a darkness. Her mighty and fierce reach goes further than any have ever experienced, in this life.
In all hearts and minds, she held the power of the gods, able to speak for the very gods themselves. But, you'd never know it looking at our Inquisitor, our leader. Her kindness and glowing spirit stretches through even the darkest corners. Her fortress holds refuge for the mages and welcomes any who seek its shelter.
To her enemy, she is what pride had wrought, a fake, "the pretender" they call her and they are devoted to see to her demise.
Even so, the people of Thedas see her as their champion and they continue to support the Inquisition, as the fight endures past the fall of Corypheus.
Today, I am to meet with her once more. Though she has defeated the Elder One, there is much more to come for our Herald.
Pages scattered across her desk. Stacks of books have taken over her walk space.
With much to learn, as traditions have become challenged, belief's shaken; finding answer seems an impossible task.
"I swear, I have found more use for these books in my fireplace than in answers." A sigh accents her frustration while she sets down yet another disappointing read.
"Dare I say, that I must agree? No wonder your people seek to murder royalty in the cover of night. A vast procurement of utter garbage." Standing from the comfort no longer found in his chair, frustration has left its mark.
"I never knew what had happened, or why. The songs of my people quieted as if nothing is in balance. After our battle, I am just left seeking more. Answers must be out there." Standing into a well needed stretch, indentations still mark the place she just sat. Another long day of research has left the two friends with little to go on.
"Ah, yes, and we still do not even know how much further this game is to go."
"I never liked the game, Dorian." Walking off from the rotunda, she leaves her friend to get some fresh air. Tired eyes, busy minds, time has left its mark on both of their faces, a good rest seems overdue.
Dorian, much to his own surprise, spends too much time researching the Elves.
He often makes light of it during the drunken nights, playing Wicked Grace with the friends
who still fill the halls of Skyhold. All of them do. In their distinct way's.
A history was lost, buried in rubble and forgotten ruins, the crypts of their dead exposed to looting and intrusion. Time decaying anything left behind. Knowing they have a part in bringing back something lost to time, or at least answers to the exposed remains. While others, like Leliana still seek their own answers, reaffirming their commission to the Maker. They still know, that finding answers to any of this, will help them all.
As for Solas, no one has any idea of what became of him, beyond speculation.
Though, the Inquisitor still has hope in her heart, everything she does, is for the people.
Yes, a tale as old as time. Yet – what is to come – may change everything once more.
Half asleep on her desk, another morning breaks into view over the snow-covered mountains.
The light fills her room bringing a hint of warmth. She feels a slight tug at her consciousness.
She has come to know this feeling all too well, as he has nearly become part of her.
"What is it Cole"? She looks up half aware.
"Someone is coming for you, many voices; old and new singing together.
But, don't be afraid. They will not harm you." He remains standing near her side.
A knock on her chamber door. "Inquisitor? Inquisitor? Inquisitor, you have a visitor. I think you'll want to speak with." The scout stands waiting at the door.
Her heart stands still, heavy. Beating comes back slow and hard. Filled with hope, genuine and full. Walking out of her chambers, she feels unsteady. Unknowing, she swallows one breath, closing her eyes she steadies herself.
Directed out to the garden, the cool air meets her skin. The garden radiates with life.
People's laughter fills the area as they still speak praises to their Herald. Mother Giselle cares for to the spiritual needs of those who still seek out the familiar comfort of the Chantry. The simple herb garden, the only backdrop, to the faith the people hold. Its purpose fulfilled, a place of healing. A familiar form stands in front of the gazebo. A face not seen for a time.
"Morrigan?" Her face lets on a trace of surprise.
"I assume I am not who you were hoping to see." Morrigan, always showing a shadow of what she knows, takes a polite bow.
"I'm sorry, no. Though, I never know what to expect. However, you are a welcomed face. I think."
"Ah, always the shining example of etiquette Inquisitor, we have much to discuss, I hope I have not come at a bad time."
"I suppose that depends on what we are discussing?"
"Inquisitor, I know you have been busy juggling the burdens that come from a place such as yours. I can imagine how busy you have been, playing the grand game."
"I do my best, Morrigan. How may I help you?"
"Straight to business, are we?" Morrigan narrows her eyes looking Lavellan's face over. "Very well. The last time we saw each other, I was still shaping the secrets from the Well of Sorrows.
With much information to go through, I needed time to organize before I met with you."
"I hope this means you have come to share."
"It appears the voices have been calling recently. Once again, you are the one that can help. However, we must be cautious. I am still bound to Mythal and I do not know all that may come.
"How am I not surprised"? Lavellan's well-known smirk, flushes across her lips.
"I may not know of what you seek, Inquisitor. I do know, there is more in your soul than the want for power. I feel that I might be able to help in your endeavors as you help me."
"In what way do you mean"?
"There is little you know of me, Inquisitor." Morrigan let's down her guard, falling into her adviser role, softly. "I was once in a position, lost from the answers I needed for my own heart; know that I am a friend, but I also need you as so many others. I can tell you this. We may not find the answers we want, but answers we shall find. If you are interested, meet me Val Royeaux, we have much to do."
A readied visit to the war room, Lavellan surrounds herself with her advisers, whose skills remain unmatched. Lavellan knows that she walks a path unclear – friend or foe – it is always a gamble. Leliana puts spies in place around the kingdom. "We can never be too sure, Inquisitor."
Cullen, longingly looks at the Inquisitor, "Please be careful, I will have a stand of troops ready at your call."
"Inquisitor, I will have the place of your meeting secured and every dignitary distracted at a simple party, so to give you the privacy needed on your arrival." The ever-alert Josephine, always looking for a chance to host one or her now famed soirées, jots down a note on her writing board.
"With Cassandra in her place as Divine, I do not want to disrupt her from her duty just yet,
but send word so she is aware." Leliana nods in cooperation.
Sending word to her most trusted companions, everything is in place, for the journey ahead. Lavellan takes a moment to gather herself; knowing this journey will be long. Walking into the room he once sat, studying and painting her story on the plastered walls. She looked over the images of the mural one more time, knowing in her heart the story remains unfinished.
That night, she dreamt more deeply than she had since the fall of Corypheus. She had not mastered hardening her heart to a cutting edge, never wanted to. Only stilling her heart for the people. This night was different; this night, was for her.
She fell into her slumber, allowing herself to feel through the veil. Dreaming in places she could return to, when she felt the memories slipping away. In dreams, she could at least feel the echoes of him. Memories of the crashing sounds of blades and magic clashing against their enemies. Days at camp washing blood out of their armor. Stories around the campfire, the deep drinks when the party returned to Skyhold; she rarely had these moments. Moments where she could forget the world she carried. He was what she knew she couldn't defeat, nor did she want to. A moment where her heart could break free and all she could feel was his touch.
Her dreams always end the same, he walks away. The words forcing their way through her – remember what we had was real.
The worst parting ever written, in any story.
Was real… echoed into the veil.
She remembers falling to the ground after he walked away, she never clung to the ground so hard in her life. She just wanted to fall through it. She could have, she could have just let go.
This night, though, there was nothing but the traces of his touch.
Orlais was changing. Marquise Briala and Empress Celene are working hard to bring the elves and humans together. A fight masked in broken history, if any were to prevail, they would be the ones. Leliana was correct in thinking that change needed force. However, with the right pieces in play, the people of Orlais did not need much of a push. Celene and Briala became an iconic symbol of the romanticism the people secretly held. Every era needed a Romantic Period and this played well in the Orlesian Courts.
Finding themselves in the alleyway of Val Royeaux, face-to-face with a mage tied up and kneeling beside Morrigan, obviously distrusting of the human.
"Inquisitor, I am pleased to see you have made it. I wanted you to see yourself, the threat we face. This mage has vowed to see to your end and has been trying to walk the fade – physically. Silly fool, does not know what he is asking for."
"I am not the fool, you are!" The mage's voice echoes loudly through the warm air as he transforms into a rage demon, lashing out in laughter.
The group subdue the demon with little difficultly, sending the mage to his death. His body lay on the ground, broken and defeated. Nothing about him sticks out as unusual.
"He wanted to change, tired of not knowing. Wanting, waiting, if I could just see more. He did not care that it was dangerous." Cole stood up from the body. "He is gone now."
"You see the threat Inquisitor, one that can undo everything. There is a large following of people who want to challenge your very walk in the fade. I am sure you know the dangers of this."
"Go on." The Inquisitor affirms her knowledge of the danger.
"With secrets held in the fade, many have thought to have brought the spirits forth.
To question and bind these spirits to them in order to gain the secrets and knowledge they hold.
However, bringing a spirit forth, on its refusal turns them into demons – as you well know. Since you have walked, physically, in the fade they now aim to do the same. Know that some are not far from achieving this ability."
"Breaking into the fade just for knowledge, it seems idealized?"
"Inquisitor, if we are to ignore this. We could lose more than knowledge. We could lose the foothold you have worked so hard for. Your place challenged, Inquisitor, your place in the very heavens. As for where to start, I have a promising lead." Morrigan always holds back, while alluding to something deeper; today is no different.
"I suppose you would be our guide then? Morrigan, Keeper of Sorrows?"
"Actually, Lethallan, you have a much grander spirit guiding you. However, I can help. For I am not entangled in the welfare of your heart, just your success."
"He is healing the hurt. His song is spreading. But there are more with him…and darkness… he … still hurts."
"Yes, Cole. Darkness indeed." Morrigan states with firmness.
"When do we begin?"
"Always ready and eager are we? Inquisitor. First we must make a short visit to a friend. For where we are going, we will need more than weapons. If I may speak with you first, before we depart? Please meet me back at Skyhold garden."
Lavellan wastes no time in meeting with Morrigan, eager for answers or direction.
Directed to the room holding the eluvian, Morrigan lets on little. "We must speak in private, Inquisitor." Opening the doorway through the eluvian, the magic's swirl and they step through meeting once again, in the place where all roads meet.
"Now that we are alone, I must ask you. What do you know of Solas, Inquisitor?"
"Solas?" A twist of surprise raises Lavellan's defenses and curiosity. "Honestly, what I thought I knew, I'm not even sure of."
"But, you two were… alone at times." Alluding to the romance the two elves had shared.
"Yes, we… had something." Lavellan serenely states, forcing the word had out of her lips.
"He removed your vallaslin, did he not? Did it not strike you odd that a mage could just wave his hand and remove a vallaslin?" Watching her closely to gain insight on the elf standing before her.
"It happened in a private moment, one I not forgotten. It felt like nothing I have ever experienced, much more than I had ever…" Feeling lost in the memory, her focus fades. Shaking her head to pull back to the conversation
Morrigan watches the elf closely. "Ah, yes, my point - something much more. What would you say if I told you that Solas, was more than he led on?"
"Honestly, Morrigan, nothing would surprise me."
"Surprise is not my intent, nor would I think it of you. But, do you think that maybe, it wasn't you? Maybe he just couldn't bare the shame of not telling you and allowing… whatever it was you two had, exist without you knowing the truth?" Morrigan pushes to see if Lavellan still cares for the Elven mage.
"What do you know of us, or Solas, Morrigan?"
"I cannot speak for him, but I myself have had to make choices, choices that took me from the ones I loved. I know the regrets, I know now that some sacrifices are unnecessary. I just wonder if he knows."
"What would it matter? He is gone, he said it could never be in this world."
"And yet you still wait for him. You still look for him. As Cullen has so graciously exasperated, you have yet to seek out the touch of another."
"Your point of this, Morrigan? Showing her frustration at the guarded topic, the elf pulls her arms up from their relaxed posture. A gesture to represent that she had enough of this game. The mist rising around the two woman of the used broken roads, floats steady in the air filling the moment, echoing the abandonment she feels inside.
"I am simply preparing you Inquisitor. If we do meet our old friend. It seems his power has grown, but as the spirit of compassion has so stated, he still feels … something for you." Her gaze challenging Lavellan's will, she has no intent to ease it. "He led you to Skyhold and fought by your side until the orb lay shattered. Have you not considered that without the orb, he could not stay?" Provoking the elf unconcerned with her gestures.
"I have gone over several different variations in my head, Morrigan. It ends the same. He left, without answers, broken… I just…" Tears begin to break through her mask. A sign of retreat from the subject, she will not fight the witch, to hide from what is true.
Satisfied with her answer, Morrigan closes out this meet. "Well then, it seems like our adventure may bring more to light than just defending your honor." Morrigan, did not need to hear anymore. She knows the look in the Inquisitor's eyes. She knows that Lavellan has not stopped loving Solas; undeniably changing the game.
"Well, then Inquisitor, let us begin." Morrigan brushes her hand towards the eluvian.
A gesture to begin an end.
So many emotions now stirred in the elf, yearning for the freedom from the walls surrounding her; insistently pulling her to a peaceful place. Her spirit desiccated, thirsting for the calming whispers of nature. Few serene places exist for her, as she has marched these lands with her blades drawn. She must remember the peaceful moments, the beauty. Lavellan grabs her mount and heads toward Crestwood, to stand in the place of her last private moment with the one who has stolen her heart. She has much to think about and a great deal more to understand. Her spirit friend Cole follows at a distance, for her hurt has reopened stronger and is calling to the spirit of compassion. His blades, he may have sworn to her, but his friendship he extends freely.
Walking to the old ruin, taken once more by the memories of the elven mage, Solas.
Her flesh soaks in the dampness that rests in the air, whirled around by the falls pouring into the ancient bath. She has not visited this ruin since the two elves had stood here marking their end. Though the darkness looms, the moonlight drops down enough for her elven eyes to see. The halla standing with great height facing each other, shadowing the memory of the two elves who faced each other in this place, the path to a place of lost love.
She remembers their bond; how real it burned within as he pulled her in hard against his shape.
The way he held her hand, soft with intent and meaning. Leading her here, a moment for just the two of them to share. His eyes spoke to her, deeply as he freed her from the lie she wore on her face. He gave her freedom. Holding onto the love they shared, she upheld her focus on the moment that still weighted heavy in her heart. There is a beauty here, haunting as it might be.
Images of his fighting form as he guided his staff – pulling and shaping magic. His arms held tight around her in a dance at Halamshiral. She remembers the feel of his lips, soft, causing her face to flush. The way his body wrapped around hers when he kissed her. Though they never had sex, the feelings he left her with remain, intense.
Everything begins unwinding from memory, she had kept these memories restrained.
Laying down gently by the side of the water, tracing her hand around the ripples her touch makes, on the once-still form. Her heart is full once again, a feeling she had denied herself since he left. Glowing even brighter than before, she has forgotten what it felt like to allow this love in. But tonight, she hoped even he would feel it.
Cole, one of many spirit's caring for the two elves story, watches her spirit unfold.
Just as Solas once spoke of spirits who leaned against the veil to see the Hero of Ferelden.
Many spirits would do the same, to feel her love, sadness, and hope. They reveled at the chance to feel her light. Tonight they need not lean; her heart was wide open and rang throughout the veil around them. Her tears soaking the air, and her warmth lighting up the small ruin – so much so – Cole could barely even see her. Now, reminded of how much power was in that feeling.
"Lathbora viran." Her delicate whisper into the veil around them.
The spirits stirred that night, some weeping, some glowing, and some smiling.
A moment many spirits longed to feel forever. A love in its truest form. Imagine the sex some snickered, imagine the day this can be! Oh, let them find each other again! Where has he gone? Is he safe, alone? The spirits echoed, filling the veil with the remnants of longing, left behind as she walked out; making her way back to Skyhold. Her spirit freed again.
Cole, weeping inside for both of his friends, leaves behind a small parchment; placing it on the spot she just lay.