Chapter 2: Doubt

Alyn was exhausted. In the past four days she had barely gotten more than five hours of sleep, and she knew from the way her advisors had looked at her during their morning meeting that they were beginning to suspect something. None of them had mentioned anything though, and she had hidden her bouts of foggy dizziness and nausea behind a stone faced expression. Leliana, Cullen and Josephine did not know her well enough to know that it was just a mask that her friends back in her clan jokingly called her "Keeper face" – an expression used very rarely in their company. To her advisors it was the expression she always wore during their meetings, and she silently prayed that they would not pay enough attention to her to see the cracks that were beginning to form.

Hiding her exhaustion from her companions was another matter entirely; especially since they had gotten to know her well enough to notice when something was amiss, and they would know that something was very wrong when they would realise that she couldn't sleep. Having fought and travelled beside her for months, they had quickly learned two things about her; she could fall asleep in the matter of minutes if she allowed it and once she was asleep it was almost impossible to wake her. They had discovered the second fact one night out in the Hinterlands, when their camp had been attacked by a couple of angry bears. Alyn had slept through the entire thing and had woken up the next morning to a trashed camp, two dead bears, and a very angry looking Cassandra. Varric had not let her live that down for weeks.

Now, as they prepared to head off to the Hinterlands again to complete some final tasks before the rest of the mages arrived to Haven, Alyn knew that they would notice, and they would ask questions; questions she had no wish to answer since the reason for her insomnia would be accompanying them. It was a decision of her own making, since he had always been at her side during their travels, and not bringing him along would make things look suspicious. Solas was, of course, completely oblivious to the role he played in her current worries, but she knew that he would worry with the rest of them, only it would not be honest worry coming from his end.

Not Solas, she reminded herself while she walked to the gates of Haven where he, Cassandra, and Dorian would be waiting for her. Fen'Harel; a name whispered in her ear after a kiss that still lingered on her lips. Do not trust him, vhenan. His desperate warning from the future still echoed in her mind and the giant lump of anxiety in her stomach had never left her ever since he had revealed his true identity to her.

After they had returned from the future and were back at Haven she had taken Dorian aside and asked him to keep quiet about the kiss. The Tevinter mage had made the promise with a smile and a wink.

"Ah, the thrill of a complicated relationship," he had sighed before he had walked off to the tavern, leaving Alyn feeling so dizzy that she'd had to sit down.

A complicated relationship with the Dread Wolf; every Dalish girl's dream.
She had still not truly believed it at that point, had not wanted to believe. It was absurd, she had told herself while she had fought through the dizziness; absurd to believe that the Dread Wolf, the Bringer of Nightmares, the Great Betrayer and Lord of Tricksters hid in her inner circle, and that it was Solas, the elven hedge mage she had found herself falling in love with. But then, his future self had known what she and her people thought of Fen'Harel when he had confessed his identity to her; had known the stories she had grown up hearing. Still she had found herself trying to come up with any kind of excuse not to believe it, each of them sounding more ridiculous than the next; he was affected by the red lyrium, he was obviously not himself, he had been possessed and did not know what he was saying. Finally, in an attempt to deny that it was true, she had made herself calm down enough to seek out the man in question.

She had avoided Solas during their journey back to Haven, having busied herself with speaking to Grand Enchanter Fiona instead, and during her slow walk over to him she had felt her heart beating faster and faster. He had stood in his usual spot outside his cabin, arms crossed over his chest as he had leaned against the wall slightly. His usual cool gaze had warmed up at the sight of her, the corners of steel blue eyes crinkling when he smiled one of the rare smiles he never seemed to reserve for anyone but her. Do not trust him, vhenan.

He had congratulated her on the new alliance with the mages and even though he had expressed some slight disbelief that she had truly travelled to the future, he'd had no interest in hearing about his own part in it. In hindsight, she was not sure why she had been at all surprised to hear that. Make him tell you the truth, had echoed in her mind and the lump in her stomach had grown as she had approached the subject carefully, like a hunter scouting ahead on very light steps.

"Solas, in your journeys in the Fade, have you ever heard of the name Corypheus?"

Anyone who had not spent enough time with him would have missed the slight tension in his jaw that had appeared and disappeared in a heartbeat at the mention of the name, and when she had caught it she had felt her heart squeeze so painfully she had feared that she would black out. She did not want to believe, did not want to know, but she could hear her internal screaming when she knew that his - carefully chosen - answer would be a lie.

"No, I cannot say it is a name I have come across. Was it mentioned in this future you were sent to?"

Fen'Harel the Dread Wolf, Bringer of Nightmares, Lord of Tricksters, the Great Betrayer was in her inner circle, having tricked them all, and her gaze travelled down his cream coloured woollen tunic, resting on the necklace she came to realise was the jaw bone of a wolf. She had been a fool.

"It was written in a journal I found. It's an unusual name so it caught my attention." The lie had come easy to her lips, even as she had struggled to look back into his eyes, to keep her voice upbeat. Even as she could hear her blood pounding in her ears as every story of the Dread Wolf that she had grown up hearing echoed in her mind. "It probably doesn't mean anything."

The silence that followed between them seemed to stretch on for seconds, but he had never let his warm smile disappear from his lips, and his eyes remained on hers, intense and unwavering.

"I apologize for not having the answer you seek, although if I am not mistaken I believe it is Tevene. Perhaps your new friend from Tevinter can assist you further."

She had forced herself to smile at him before she had nodded.

"I will ask him. Thank you."

She had not asked Dorian. Instead she had left Haven, had walked until the lump in her stomach had grown too large, until the anxiety had made her chest ache too much and until the dizziness in her head had made her collapse on the ground. She had vomited in the snow and had shaken so violently afterwards that her own body had terrified her.
She had trusted him, had grown close to him, had fallen in love with him, and now she knew him for what he truly was; a liar, a deceiver, a trickster using them for some ulterior plan that she had yet to figure out. Fen'Harel had given her the clues, had wanted her to know, but she was not ready to know. Not yet. Not while her heart still ached, sucking out the fight in her. She was her Keeper's First, tasked with protecting her clan against the Dread Wolf, and instead of returning to confront him she had remained a pathetic lump in the snow, hiding among the trees.

She had kept hiding after that day; had avoided him in the hopes that her feelings for him would cool off enough for her to gain the strength she needed to face his true self. Fen'Harel had wanted her to confront him, but Fen'Harel had been weakened by the red lyrium, and she did not know if Solas would remain his calm, cool and collected self once he knew that she knew.
She had stopped visiting his cabin every evening, and if he had worried or suspected or had even missed her company – something she pathetically hoped he had – he had not sought her out.

This is the right thing to do, she had thought one evening while she had flipped through the pages of her journal, reading the words with different eyes now that she knew that they were the words of the greatest traitor of her people. It's nothing more than a girlish crush and I will move on from it, she had told herself when she avoided the area where his cabin was altogether, even though she knew that she would be forced to go there once she ran out of potions and needed to order more from Adan.

She had never been very good with lying to herself.

Every day she had told herself that he did not care, that he was using her, that he was a traitor, a liar, a deceiver and that she should harden her heart and treat him as such. But then a small voice whispered in the back of her mind, reminding her that in another world, a year from now, he had called her vhenan, had kissed her with a desperate passion that spoke of his feelings for her. Perhaps the stories of him were something the Dalish had gotten wrong as well, the pathetic voice said. Perhaps they were wrong. No. She dismissed his affectionate words and the kiss as another part of his tricks, a ploy to make her truly listen to his warning. But why would he ruin his own plans?

Her mind went around in circles while she had several endless internal arguments with herself, and when she walked down the steps to the main gates of Haven she felt her head spin, and she had to stop moving. Seeking the stability of one of the walls, she pressed the palm of her hand to her forehead and closed her eyes while she tried to think of something else. Anything would be better than the confusing mess that currently occupied her mind.

"Are you not feeling well, Alyn?"

It was the first time she had heard his calm baritone voice in days and she snapped her eyes open, saw him standing in front of her, and quickly realised that avoiding him had done nothing to cool her feelings for him. He was not even attempting to conceal the worry in his eyes as he looked her over and she found herself truly wanting to believe that it was real.

He is the Dread Wolf, it is nothing but lies!

She quickly dropped her hand from her forehead and forced herself to smile before she answered.

"I'm feeling great. Let's go."

Cassandra had also approached them now, and she looked just as worried as Solas did, her brows furrowed slightly. Alyn groaned inwardly. This was not what she needed right now.

"You do look a little pale, Herald. Perhaps it would be wise to postpone our journey and let you get some rest."

"I am fine," Alyn replied through gritted teeth before she attempted to escape from their worried looks.

Solas placed a hand on her shoulder, the first time he had touched her since her journey to the future, and she felt herself tense up, felt her heart pound wildly while she tried to keep her breathing calm.

"Do not overexert yourself, Alyn," he murmured gently, the words meant for her ears alone. "No one will fault you for needing to rest."

Fen'Harel who betrayed the gods, who hates the People, who tricks and deceives.

"Creators have mercy, I am fine!" She snapped so loudly it caused a few of the soldiers and refugees standing by the gates to turn and look at them. Without looking up at Solas, she shrugged his hand off her shoulder before she almost ran to Dorian who was waiting for them on the other side of the open gates. "Let's go."


She could feel Solas' eyes on her back during their journey to the Hinterlands and hid her bouts of dizziness by using her staff as a walking stick, masked her fatigue and anxiety by laughing and chatting to Dorian. The fellow mage was still new to their group, still did not know her well enough to know that something was wrong. Right now she welcomed that, and the distraction he provided with his stories of his life in the Tevinter Imperium.

After stopping to pick up status reports in the Crossroads they moved on, and while they walked through Witchwood, heading in the direction of the farmlands where Horse Master Dennet lived, they ran into trouble. A small group of bandits ambushed them and she could immediately feel Solas' barrier enveloping her protectively while she opened herself up to the Fade.

Where her magic had previously been a fierce and fluid motion – the Fade answering her call as tiny wisps flocked to her, like moths flock to a beacon, before manifesting into a spell – it was now jagged and halting. It felt like she was ripping the Fade slowly, piece by piece like fragile parchment, before she stitched it together in a spell that did not feel quite right. The shock of lightning she sent at the bandits did little damage to them, and Alyn wanted to laugh in frustration. Of course her fatigue had begun to affect her magic, why was she even surprised?

If that wasn't bad enough, she knew that Solas would have noticed the change as well. They had fought side by side long enough to be able to tell what their magic felt like, and he would no doubt have felt the difference from the moment she had opened herself up to the Fade. The Dread Wolf hid in her inner circle, and now he knew that she was weak.
She refused to let the others see how shaken her weakened abilities had made her and kept on fighting and casting spells as if nothing had changed. Soon enough their enemies lay dead on the ground and she popped open a lyrium bottle, drinking from it greedily to try to regain what little of her strength that remained. The battle had drained her, but she refused to let her weakness show when she could feel Solas' eyes on her back.

Dorian came to her rescue, even if he was not aware of it. Discounting their trip to the future, it was the first time the Tevinter mage had fought alongside Solas, and he immediately began to ask questions about the elven mage's staff technique.

"That little flare you sometimes do with your staff... You're redirecting ambient energy to your personal aura?"

"Yes," she heard Solas reply, and finally, thank the Creators, she felt his eyes leave her. "The effect clears magical energy and creates a minor randomized barrier to impair incoming magic."

Cassandra had settled in next to her after having cleaned off her sword, and Alyn gave the Seeker a half-hearted smile as she watched the warrior cross her arms over her chest while listening to the men's conversation. She knew that Cassandra had been wary of the Tevinter mage from the start and Alyn half expected her to make a disgusted noise at their discussion. She most likely prevented herself because Alyn had allowed him to join the Inquisition, having made it clear to everyone that it was Dorian's knowledge that had made it possible for them to return from that dark future in Redcliffe.

"Fascinating. It's a Tevinter technique. I've never seen anyone in this part of the world do it." The enthusiasm in Dorian's voice over having discovered someone from outside his homeland using the technique was obvious, though Alyn thought she detected a bit of homesickness in it as well.

"The technique is not Tevinter. It is elven." Solas' response was cool and accusing - like a whip cracking in the air - as if Dorian had personally been responsible for the fall of Arlathan, and something in her snapped.

Crossing her arms, she spun around so quickly that both men looked at her. She met the gaze of a slightly embarrassed looking Dorian before she looked at Solas for the first time since they had left Haven.

"How do you know?"

His eyes widened slightly at the biting tone in her voice but he showed no other signs that might indicate that her question had caught him off-guard.

"I have seen countless such displays in my journeys in the Fade."

Of course you have.

"You saw ancient elven staff techniques in the Fade?" she asked slowly, sceptically, her eyes never leaving his.

A small crease formed on his forehead, a minor sign of annoyance, and she ignored the screaming voices at the back of her mind. You're arguing with the Dread Wolf! Are you insane?
After four days of being unable to sleep, of questioning everything he did, of being pushed and pulled between hundreds of different thoughts and emotions, each one more painful, confusing and angry as the next, she would not be surprised if she finally did lose her sanity.

"There is a trove of knowledge in the ancient memories for those who know how to look for it."

"But how do you know that the memories were from Elvhenan? They could be memories from the Dales. The Dalish elves could have brought the technique with them from the Imperium. How would you know the difference?"Unless you were actually there to know the difference, followed silently as she kept pushing against him while she ignored the nausea and the anxiety, the dizziness and the fatigue, the pain in her heart and the anger in her mind; hiding it behind layers of masks on her face.

The tension between them could be cut through with a knife, something that had most likely not gone unnoticed by their human companions, and then Solas smiled. His features etched into the usual expression he wore when she prodded him with questions, before he leaned forward slightly, his hands clasped around his staff.

"Those are excellent questions. However, if your theory is correct, it is a shame that it is another piece of knowledge lost by your people. I do not see you using the technique after all."

Fenedhis lasa. She gritted her teeth to stop herself from saying something she would regret and instead turned and walked away without a word.

Still seething when they crossed the broken bridge to reach the farmlands half an hour later, her inner turmoil had reached a near boiling point, and when a bear attacked them she let out her frustrations the only way she could think of. Slamming her staff into the ground in the final moments of the fight, she flung a fireball at the bear.

"May the Dread Wolf take you!" she shouted heatedly as the fire caught its fur and caused enough damage to kill it.

She did not look at Solas but could feel his magic falter slightly at her words, and when they moved on she had to bite her lip to keep herself from laughing.

Smooth, Alyn. Very smooth.


They returned to Haven at dusk, the small village nearly filled to the brim with all the newly arrived mages, and after a long meeting with Cassandra, Cullen, Josephine and Leliana, it was decided that they would perform their second attempt at closing the Breach the following day. She skipped dinner in the tavern entirely after she left the Chantry, and instead she pushed through the crowds, ignoring the whispers of "That's the Herald of Andraste" while she sought the safety of her cabin. She needed rest, needed to clear her head, needed sleep, but she knew that none would come to her and that she would most likely spend another sleepless night twisting and turning while her thoughts ate away at her.

She had barely closed the door behind her when someone knocked on it, and she opened it with a weary sigh, freezing slightly when she saw Solas. He had already changed out of his gear and wore his usual cream coloured tunic and moss green leggings, hands clasped behind his back while he looked at her.

Fen'Harel, not Solas. Fen'Harel, who betrayed the gods, who hates the People, who is said to feast on the souls of the dead.

"May I come in?" he asked, his voice barely heard over the crowd of people behind him.

She knew that she should say no, knew that she should distance herself from him, but she was too exhausted to argue with herself, too tired to decide between what she wanted and what she should do. Mythal protect me, she thought quietly before she stepped aside and opened the door further to let him in.

Fen'Harel, the Bringer of Nightmares, Lord of Tricksters. Fen'Harel the traitor, the monster. Fen'Harel the Dread Wolf.

She closed the door behind him, drowning out the noise from the outside, and he stopped in front of the fireplace, a contemplative look on his face while he stared into the flames. For a long while there was nothing but silence between them, and it was not until she had moved away from the door and was slowly walking towards him that he spoke.

"I understand how difficult it can be when so many lives rely on you," he said distantly, seemingly lost in his own memories. "And how it is far too easy to put the wellbeing of others above your own."

He broke out of his reverie and his gaze snapped away from the flames, moved to look at her, and the unreadable intensity in his steel blue eyes nearly made her flinch.

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked, repeating the same question she had asked him a year into the future.

"Because I am worried about you," he replied quietly, the intensity in his gaze softening as genuine worry poured through.

Fen'Harel, who kissed her, who called her vhenan, who sacrificed himself so that she and Dorian could return to the past.

He held out his hand, revealing a small glass bottle filled with a dark blue liquid resting in his palm and she hesitantly took it from him before she held it up in front of her eyes.

"I had Adan make it after we returned. It will help you sleep." His words made her stare at him and she saw a small, comforting smile on his lips. "I have suffered through enough periods of insomnia to recognize the symptoms in someone else. Do not let the troubles of this world overwhelm you, Alyn."

He moved towards the door to her cabin, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze on the way, and she returned her gaze to the bottle while her mind raced.

Solas, whose eyes lit up whenever he spoke of the Fade. Solas, who provided comforting words to a widow when they had returned her dead husband's stolen wedding ring. Solas, who had helped convince an elven healer to help out the refugees in the Crossroads. Solas, who had expressed his respect and admiration of Cassandra and her strength, her faith and her willingness to do what needed to be done. Solas, who valued freedom of thought above all. Solas, who out of them all, had been the most adamant about closing the Breach, stating over and over again that they were doomed as long as it remained open. Solas, not Fen'Harel.

Just pretend, she thought, closing her eyes briefly. Just pretend for one evening.

"Solas." Her voice was shaking, and she cleared her throat before she turned around to look at him. "Do you have any more stories to share about our ancestors?"

She sat down on the floor in front of the fire, patted the empty space next to her and he gave her another smile before he slowly walked over and sat down.

"Is there a topic in particular that would interest you?"

"Surprise me," she replied, feeling a smile coming easy to her lips when she heard him chuckle. Solas, not the Dread Wolf.

There was a long moment of silence between them while he seemed to contemplate what to tell her, the snapping of the firewood the only sound filling the room, and then he began to speak. It took her a few seconds of struggling to understand it before she realised that he was speaking in elvish. The language rolled off his tongue in soft and fluid motions, beautiful even when she struggled to pick out any words that she might understand. Then she recalled him telling Sera once that even though an elf did not understand their ancient tongue, it was said that they would still feel the rhythm and emotion in the language and the words spoken. The elven archer had mocked him for it, but now Alyn found herself closing her eyes before she focused on his voice, relaxing as she listened to his words without trying to translate them.

She could feel the emotions in the story, and she imagined each of them as a different coloured strip of fabric that were weaved together as the tale unravelled. Hopelessness, pain and sorrow weaved in with hope, joy and love; confidence and inspiration weaved in with loss and determination. Finally there was betrayal, an unending pool of sorrow and pain, of emptiness and loneliness, but beneath all of it she could still feel hope, unfaltering and unwavering.
When the room once again turned silent, she kept her eyes closed for a few moments longer, still lingering on the emotions she had felt.

"What was the story about?" she whispered, afraid of scaring away the remaining traces of it if she spoke any louder.

"Fen'Harel's rebellion," he replied after another moment of silence, and the strange thickness in his voice made her open her eyes.

He was staring into the fire, once again seemingly lost in his own memories, but there was no mistaking the raw pain and sorrow in his eyes. She closed her eyes again, focusing on the emotions while she wondered who he had rebelled against, and then she made her decision.

Tomorrow, she thought as they remained seated in silence. I will confront him tomorrow after we have closed the Breach.