Elvish:

Da'halla - Little halla

Lath sulevin - Be certain in need

Lath aravel ena - And the path will emerge

Arla ven tu vir mahvir - To a home tomorrow

Melana 'nehn - And time will again

Enasal sa lethallin - Be the joy it once was

Mala suledin nadas - Now you must endure

Chapter 7: Inquisitor

They say that Fen'Harel did not care for the People. Our gods saw him as a brother, and they trusted him...

"The matter of the orb is something we can discuss when the time comes."

And he left, and the great beast came into the village that night and killed the warriors, and the women, and the elders...

"It matters little what my plans were. All that matters is stopping Corypheus before he uses it to do more damage."

And Fen'Harel sealed them away so they could never again walk among the People...

"Think what you may of me, Alyn, but you know as well as I that you need my help as much as I need yours."

They trusted Fen'Harel, and they were all of them betrayed...

"Is that truly the kind of monster you believe me to be?"

The villagers asked Fen'Harel how he would save them...

"Do not trust him, vhenan."

And he said to them,

'When did I say that I would save you?'

"Skyhold truly is a blessing in our darkest hour. It is fortunate that we found it when we did."

Cassandra's voice broke Alyn out of her reverie, immediately putting an abrupt halt to her thoughts. She turned her gaze to the woman slowly, feeling almost detached as her words sunk in. Skyhold was a blessing. Unsurprising words coming from the Seeker, considering it seemed to be a sentiment shared with the rest of the Inquisition. After a long and gruesome journey through cold and unforgiving mountains, the old fortress had seemed like the light at the end of a very dark tunnel.

The Inquisition had taken a collective sigh of relief before they had immediately begun work on repairing Skyhold. The mood had changed; while the hours passed it seemed as if everyone was beginning to relax more as they accepted the safety of Skyhold's thick and sturdy walls, walls that offered more protection than Haven had ever been able to. Alyn, however, could not see anything beyond the strings that were attached to the fortress. A price would be paid for the safety, eventually. The Lord of Tricksters did not help mortals without consequences after all, and she quietly disagreed with Cassandra's statement.

Skyhold was not a blessing, it was a curse.

"It is," she responded, placing her gloved hands on the stony railing while she looked down at the bustling crowd in the courtyard below.

They have found the fortress a scant week earlier, and almost as soon as they had arrived Iron Bull had offered to return his mercenary company back to Haven to search for supplies and more survivors. Signs of the Chargers' work was already beginning to appear. More and more refugees and recruits arrived through the high gates of Skyhold each day, seeking sanctuary from the war and offering to help in their fight to stop Corypheus in any way they could.
None of them knew that a greater threat than Corypheus was housed within these walls.
Had Alyn been the person she had been before Redcliffe and Haven, she would have been burdened down with guilt when she saw the look of relief on their faces when they believed themselves safe. Now she was too detached to allow herself to sink down that dark hole. She shut out the fear, anger, pain, and doubt, and beneath it all – buried among emotions and memories she never looked back on – she placed the feelings she held for Solas.

"You called me 'vhenan'," she had told him and now she looked back on her words and cringed inwardly. They had been wasted on a man who had not deserved to hear them, and saying them would not have turned the lie real. Solas was a man who had never existed, would never come to exist, and now she focused only on garnering the strength she needed so that she could do the duty she had been trained for and stand against Fen'Harel. She knew that he had plans, knew that they involved the orb. After having seen the damage Corypheus had done while wielding its power, after having twisted and turned every word Fen'Harel had told her while she had thought him to be Solas, she knew that whatever he had planned would more than likely do as much, if not more, damage to the world.

"You should know," Cassandra started, once again interrupting her thoughts. "I have had many discussions with Leliana, Cullen and Josephine these past few days. We intend to make you our Inquisitor." Alyn immediately snapped her gaze back to Cassandra and she furrowed her brow when she saw the calm and determination graze over the Seeker's features. Her eyes, sharp and focused, never broke away from hers. "Word of Skyhold has spread; it will no doubt have gained the attention of the Elder One. We have the walls and numbers to put up a fight here, but this threat is far beyond the war we anticipated. But we now know what allowed you to stand against Corypheus, what drew him to you."

"The anchor is not why I joined the Inquisition, nor do I have any interest in taking it from you."

The mark in question flared up, burning in the palm of Alyn's hand, but she remained quiet while she ignored the stinging pain, letting her fingers curl into a fist in an attempt to keep the pulsing of magic at bay. The anchor had grown wilder and more painful since Corypheus had tried to rip it from her palm. It was a familiar pain, the same kind she had felt on the fateful day when she had woken up in a dark and damp prison cell at Haven.
Back then the mark had slowly been killing her and the worry that the same thing was happening now hovered over her like a shadow, but she pushed it away, kept the anchor hidden from others. She could live with the pain and she hoped that it was nothing more than a simple side-effect from Corypheus' meddling. She had no desire to involve anyone else in the matter, especially not the man who would know what might be causing the anchor's instability; particularly not when she had avoided him for the past week. She would not show weakness in front of the Dread Wolf.

"Corypheus came for the anchor, and now it's useless to him so he wants me dead. That's all there is to it, Cassandra," she replied quietly before she turned her gaze away from the Seeker, letting her eyes move over the mountain tops that towered over the walls around Skyhold.

In the past she would have protested more about the decision that Cassandra and the advisors had made behind her back. Now she found that she did not see the point in it. They had already used her as a rallying cry to create the Inquisition, building upon the tales that she had been sent to them by their beloved prophet to bolster their numbers. The revelation that the anchor was magic and not a gift she had received from Andraste would not keep them from continuing to use her as a symbol. She could not leave the Inquisition so long as Corypheus, and Fen'Harel, remained a threat to the people she cared about back home, and she would not be allowed to remain on the side-lines while she stayed.

"The anchor has power, but it's not why you're still standing here. Your decisions closed the Breach, your determination has led us this far. The Inquisition needs a leader if we are to survive through this war, and you are that leader."

A pawn, her mind whispered and a flash of irritation soared through her but she held it back. There was no point in debating, even when her pride screamed at her to push back, even when her instincts told her to run away.

"Fine."

Slowly her mind began to trace back the steps of the path she had walked on so far, until she saw a forest clearing in front of her, felt the biting night winds that had caused her to shiver against her skin. Worn hands held hers firmly, dark eyes lingered on her, while prayers spoken with a voice that never faltered filled her ears.

"May Mythal protect you on your journey, may Dirthamen keep you shrouded, may Ghilan'nain give you strength, and may the Dread Wolf never catch your scent."
"Ma serannas."
"Remember, da'len, you are only there to observe. This meeting could be the change our people have waited for. Dareth Shiral."
"Dareth Shiral, Keeper."

"I... have to admit," Cassandra began hesitantly. "I expected more protests from you. I know that you were not open to the idea of staying when the Inquisition first began."

Cassandra's words sounded hollow in her ears, distant even though the warrior still stood next to her. Alyn let out a quiet huff of air while she kept tracing the mountains with her gaze, her attention still half-buried in memories that seemed to have taken place in a different time and a different life, when her worries were trivial and she was not facing the threat of two ancient beings from two different directions.

"Things change," she replied shortly.

"I see."

"Remain strong, da'halla. I pray your task will not keep you away from us for long."

In the shadow of darkness the black vallaslin of Elgar'nan had made Terath's pale eyes stand out like stars in the night sky. They bore into her, intense and unwavering, filled with sorrow and steel that had lingered over decades.

"Lath sulevin," she had told him and he had sighed.

"Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?" Alyn asked, the slight hint of impatience creeping into her voice as she wanted nothing more than to be left alone. Thankfully the Seeker seemed to have gotten the hint.

"I... no. Josephine thought it would be a good idea to hold a ceremony to officially announce you as our Inquisitor. It will be held tomorrow. The Inquisition will follow wherever you lead them, Herald."

The words still rung in her ears after Cassandra had left her. She knew that the Seeker had meant the words as a comfort, but they sounded empty. The Inquisition would only follow her as long as she did not make the wrong choice or she would most likely end up as Shartan. The Dalish did not forget the fate of the elven hero who had fought to free the People from Tevinter slavery, even when the Chantry had done everything they could to erase him from their history.

"Lath aravel ena, arla ven tu vir mahvir, melana'nehn, enasal sa lethallin," Terath had finally responded the night she had left her clan to travel to the Conclave. "Mala suledin nadas, Alyn. Be strong."

She would have to write a letter back home, tell Keeper Deshanna to move the clan. They remained camped in the forests surrounding Wycome only because they awaited her return. When she had left them she had not expected to be away for more than a couple of months, but now things had changed, and she would not have her kin risk their safety for the sake of her. She needed to make sure that they were safe from anyone who would use them against her.

She jumped when she heard an unexpected pop next to her before she noticed a figure in the corner of her eye. When she turned her head in its direction, she found herself meeting the intense gaze of ice blue eyes peering out from the shadow of a wide-brimmed hat. Her rapidly beating heart slowed down when recognition settled in and she let out a soft sigh of relief.

"Hello, Cole."

The human man looked slightly distressed as he stared at her, his shoulder sunken and hands wringing together.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

She gave him a strained smile and hoped that it looked reassuring enough.

"You didn't. I was just surprised."

"Oh. Sorry."

"You don't have to apologize, Cole."

"Okay. Sorry."

This time she had to bite the inside of her lip to stop herself from smiling. She was still getting used to Cole's presence in the Inquisition and was still uncertain of how to behave around him.

She knew that more people would have died in the attack at Haven if he had not managed to outrun Corypheus' forces to warn them. Although his appearance at the time had been strange and suspect, it had not been until shortly after the Inquisition had arrived at Skyhold – when things had calmed down enough that his unusual behaviour had stood out – that his true nature had been revealed.

Fen'Harel had called him a spirit, Vivienne and Cassandra had called him a demon, and Cole had said that he only wanted to help. She had watched as he helped wounded soldiers, had listened to him while he had recited their painful thoughts as if he had been reading them from a note. He could hear pain, but he could not hear hers. The anchor made her too bright to hear, he had said, and for the first time since the mark had appeared on her hand, she had been grateful to have it. Alyn had allowed him to stay and help, and it was the last she had seen of him, until now. For a moment she worried, wondering if the protection the anchor had given her had disappeared and that he could now hear her thoughts. Her worry dissipated when he began to speak.

"She doesn't believe she can be the leader they require. She doesn't think they would follow her as they would follow you. She told the others that you would be better even though she knew that you didn't want it. Why did she do that?"

She sighed.

"I don't know, Cole." She licked her lips before she looked away from the spirit. She knew why Cassandra had done what she had, but saying it would mean accepting it, and her instincts were stubbornly telling her not to give in. She buried it, swallowed her pride. "Sometimes we have to do what is needed, even if it isn't what we want."

She would endure this, just as her people had endured through the ages. She would lead the Inquisition, and she would stop Corypheus. She would remain strong for her people, she would be their Keeper in everything but name, and she would stand against the Dread Wolf when the time came.

"Vir bor'assan," Cole said and she looked back at him in surprise.

"Where did you hear that, Cole?"

"It was written in the letter."

"What letter?"

"The one that came this morning from your clan. There was pain in the page."

He had barely finished the words before she began to run towards the main building in search for Leliana.

Word of the attack at Haven and Skyhold had reached her clan. Leliana had sent an agent to inform them and the letter had been sent with a raven. Alyn spent the rest of the afternoon and evening hidden away in one of the rundown rooms at Skyhold, reading the letter over and over again until she could recite the words written from memory. It had not been written by Keeper Deshanna but by Terath and his handwriting was hurried, jagged, and filled with worry. The words, however, conveyed comfort, support, and guidance. They knew that she would not return to them as soon as they had hoped.

It saddens us that you remain away from us, Alyn, but we will continue to pray to the Creators so that they may protect you. Vir bor'assan, as the sapling bends, so must you. Know that we are proud of you.

Like a child longing for home she drew the parchment up to her nose and shut her eyes, imagining that she could inhale the scent of incense. She allowed her mind to take her back to the clan, to evenings spent in front of the fire, listening to the stories of Hahren Iola, to afternoons spent in Keeper Deshanna's aravel, discussing the history and lore of their people. She thought of days spent in the forests, bantering with Falon and Revas as they affectionately made jokes about her poor skill with handling a bow and she smiled. She knew that she would see them again once this was over. For now, she would endure.

When the Inquisition officially declared her as the Inquisitor the next day, she declared herself an ambassador for the elves. It was a subtle statement, but she would not allow this human-founded Andrastrian Inquisition forget who she was or who she fought for.
When she entered the great hall with her advisors in tow, heading towards the war room, she noticed Fen'Harel standing by the entrance to the rotunda. She met his eyes for only a moment before she quickly looked away, pretending that she hadn't noticed him. In that short second, however, she had seen the tiniest of smiles on his lips, and steel-blue eyes looked at her with what she had only been able to discern as pride.
She was not sure what to make of it.

Evening brought celebrations. The newly repaired and opened tavern was filled to the brim, providing respite to patrons who wanted to forget about the past and drink to newfound hope. Yet Alyn still lingered on the events of the day, on the confusion and uncertainty it had brought with it. She had quickly found that she lacked the energy to remain in the large crowd, and had quietly gone upstairs where she found Cole standing in a dark corner on the top floor. His distant eyes looked at nothing while he spoke quietly to himself, murmuring the pain he sensed hidden in the patrons celebrating. She watched him for a moment before she decided that she did not want to disturb him and turned in the opposite direction to reach the door that would take her out to the ramparts.

"Voice ringing with fullness from both worlds, guiding me to the shining places. He calls himself Pride."

His words were soft-spoken but they echoed in her ears as she froze. She gripped the wooden railing tightly before she turned back to look at the spirit made flesh. His gaze was on her, focused and present; ice blue eyes that seemed able to look beyond flesh causing her skin to prickle. He could hear the pain of others, and yet it had never occurred to her that the spirit would be able to hear Fen'Harel. Did the Dread Wolf know pain, she wondered before she recalled the story he had told her before the attack at Haven; the story of Fen'Harel's rebellion. She remembered the emotions she had felt while listening to his elvish, the barely concealed pain in his voice when he had told her what it had been about. Yet, after everything that had happened up until now, she had firmly dismissed it as another one of his lies.

She approached Cole with guarded steps, took a look around to make sure that they were alone before she spoke.

"Do you know who he is?"

"Yes," he answered quickly, and then his eyes focused on a point beyond her, once again fogging over as they grew distant. "Old pain, shadows forgotten from dreams too real. This side is slow and heavy, but here is what can change."

The loud and cheerful conversation and music coming from the tavern downstairs somehow made the silence left by Cole's words heavier, and Alyn could only look at him numbly while she tried to digest what he was saying.

"Does it not bother you that he's lying to everyone?"

Cole blinked at her.

"He lied?"

"About the orb and the Breach and about who he is," she clarified, wincing slightly at the sharpness of her tone.

"Oh." Another blink. "He wears a different mask, but he is still Pride. Solas, bright and sad, observes and accepts, spirit self, seeing the soul, Solas, but somehow sorrows. He wants to help."

Doubt crept in, fighting against the instinctual pride that had been with her since she had been old enough to learn the history of her people. Whispers that told her that she was wrong poured through the cracks in the walls that insisted that she was right.
The villagers asked Fen'Harel how he would save them, and he said to them, 'When did I say that I would save you?'

Yet slowly her doubt spread and grew, and before she could stop herself she had already asked the question.

"Who does he want to help, Cole?"

"The People."