She wakes with a start, her heart thrumming against her ribs painfully as she almost chokes on her first waking breath. The sudden lack of magic in the air, the return of her normal senses, her transition to her physical body, all of it is jarring.

Her realization of the depth of what the world had lost creates an angry, devouring hole in the pit of her gut. The pain of it easily outstrips the pain she had once felt at the loss of her vhenan. She sits up quickly, hands grasping for purchase on the edge of her cot, using it as an anchor against the storm of the loss she is feeling. It is beyond anything she could have imagined; too painful for even tears to soothe. She clutches her chest, face twisted in agony, limbs shaking uncontrollably as it sinks into her very soul, a permanent reminder of what was lost.

The voices from the Well seem to waken now, rising up inside her to soothe with words of consolation; words that will not fill the gaping hole, but do smooth out the edges somewhat. Her heart begins to slow its staccato beat, her breaths become more even. She slides her legs over the side of the cot, shifting her grip to the single rail as she takes several calming breaths.

She's just begun to reconcile her feelings, when she senses a familiar influx of magic reaching out to her. The same magic that had only moments ago enveloped her in passion and love, within the visions of Fen'Harel's memory of Arlathan.

She takes a deep breath, letting it rattle out of her as she tries to bring her trembling under control. She gently reaches out and brushes her magic against his, though her emotional state makes the brush more of a lash, unintentionally.

She growls in frustration with herself, trying again and managing to grasp a tendril of his quickly retreating magic to hold it gently, letting hers rub against his more calmly in apology. A hesitant, softer reply of affirmation trails a subtle line along her magic, before retreating naturally.

She sighs and lets her magic dissipate, propping her elbows on her knees and letting her head sink into her hands. Her shaking is almost under control, but she doesn't feel emotionally capable of leaving her tent right now.

These thoughts flee as she hears the light padding of bare feet on dirt coming to rest just outside her tent, watching as the mouth of the tent jiggles with the motion of someone untying the flap. The light from the fire pours in around his silhouette as he pulls the flap open, poking his head in cautiously.

"Are you alright, little wolf? I felt a massive disturbance of magic from you, just before I heard you wake."

She nods, unable to trust that her voice won't betray her. She returns her hands to the side rail of her cot to hide any tremors.

She can barely make out his face for the light behind him, but what she can see looks vaguely puzzled.

"Are you sure? Do you need anything?" his voice is concerned, but cautious, almost suspicious.

She shakes her head, "No, thank you."

She nearly sighs with relief that her voice is steadier than her hands would be if they weren't clenched to her cot rail.

He pauses, seeming to deliberate his next actions. The silence drags on for several seconds before he breaks it.

"It is time for second watch, if you are up to it. I can wake one of the others, if you prefer."

She shakes her head again, "No, I'm awake. I'll be out in a moment."

He sighs and nods, accepting her answer. "Very well. There is a ration on the bench and coffee next to it."

He gives what looks to be a small smile before he ducks back out, letting the tent flap slap shut gently behind him, leaving it untied. She lets out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She takes a few deep breaths, letting them out slowly and forcing her muscles to relax, trying to calm her heartbeat. It works, somewhat. She notes that the shaking has lessened, as she lifts her hands away from the cot to hover in front of her. There's only a slight tremble now, one that will go away soon.

A chill runs down her spine, waking her up to the fact that it's gotten colder since she went to sleep. She'll need the warmth of her robe when she goes outside. An errant thought slips through her mind that Solas had seen her bare shoulders and some of her back, though the furs still clinging to her chest had covered the rest. She snorts at the petty thought; it isn't the first time he's seen more than that, most likely. Laughing at her ridiculousness does help ease the tension she is feeling though, so perhaps it isn't such a bad thought after all.

She sighs and lets the furs fall from her form as she reaches for her robe, standing as much as she can and slipping it on, tying the sash tightly around her waist. She smooths herself down, running her fingers through her hair and chiding herself for forgetting to braid it before she slept.

She slips out of her tent, grabbing her staff and hurrying over to the spot where Solas has laid out the ration and still steaming cup of coffee on the log bench. She rests her staff beside her and picks up the coffee, taking a tentative sip. It is hot, nearly burning her lips and tongue, but she doesn't care. She holds the cup in her hands, letting it keep them warm as her eyes look up to see him watching her with a curious, but guarded expression. There are questions dying to bubble past his lips, that much she can tell without having to ask the version of him she carries in her head.

She would smirk and ask him why he is staring at her normally, but it's all too obvious to try playing innocent now.

"Why wait until Haven? We are completely alone right now; Dorian and Cassandra are fast asleep, as are the guard I relieved and the requisition officer. If you wished for privacy, we have it now."

She sighs, looking down at her coffee as if she could find an answer within its black, pooling depths that would dissuade him from insisting on haste.

"It's not just privacy. Remember the place I took you, the clearing?"

He nods, "Of course."

"Once we get to Haven, give me two hours and meet me there. That will give me time to deal with some of the fallout from this mission and talk to everybody. It'll take at least that before they'll let me slip away anyway."

His eyebrows crease together, consternation marring his face. "I do not see the point in waiting that long. Explain your reasoning to me."

She gives an annoyed sigh that deflates her, "Solas, just please save it until Haven. I need time to prepare and you'll need time after to adjust. Just drop it for now, please."

For a few seconds, she's afraid he'll fight her on it. She sees the moment he gives in.

"Very well, though I do not see why it is so imperative to delay a simple explanation. However, if it will keep you from running off to hunt alone again, I will wait."

Her eyebrows fly up in surprise, "I wouldn't... fenedhis, Solas, I already apologized for that. I meant it. Besides, if you were so worried that I was hunting alone, you could have joined me."

Shit. It had slipped out before she could stop it. She tries to keep the fact that she'd just shown her hand so blatantly off of her face. She manages it. Mostly.

His look of surprise shifts to denial, then slowly to scrutiny as he stares at her. "What do you mean by that? I could not hunt as you hunted, I cannot take on a form beside my own. I would only have slowed you down."

'He's trying to play it off?' she wonders, 'Or fish for information,' her mind helpfully supplies. 'Why, at this point? He has to know what's going on, he recognized his magic last night.'

She gives a simple, logical answer to throw him off for now.

"Surely you've hunted for food before? Living on your own for so long wouldn't have been possible without knowing how to hunt." She moves her coffee to the bench beside her and grabs the ration, unfolding the wrapping and taking a bite as she looks at him expectantly.

"Of course, but as I said, I only would have slowed you down if I had joined you. And you seemed rather keen on getting away from me at the time, so my intrusion would have been unwelcome, no doubt."

She swallows the food in her mouth and sighs, regret clouding her features. "Solas, I'm sorry. I know I was an ass last night. You didn't deserve that, though you were being a bit pushy. But I understand why."

He tilts his head to the side, concerned. "I was simply worried for your safety. If I came off as pushy, I am sorry. But it was not without good reason."

She nods, "I know. I'll get over it. In the meantime though, you should get some sleep. You know Cass will wake you when the sun rises."

He hums his agreement, "Yes, you have a point," he stands slowly and turns, calling over his shoulder as he heads to his tent, "goodnight, Fen'da'len."

"Goodnight, Solas," she replies softly.

She finishes off the ration, tossing her now lukewarm coffee down her throat to wash the ration down, sighing as she settles in to do very little but keep guard for the next two hours. The thought of trying Uthenera occurs to her, but she sweeps it away. She has to remain alert, and she's not entirely sure if being in Uthenera would allow for that, even if she was fully awake. She decides it's best to leave that for after they get to Skyhold. There, she'll have time to delve into it properly.

She busies her mind with making plans for troop movements and going through the events at Haven from the last time. She'd managed to save most of the people she had any opportunity to save the last time, but there was one that had been left behind. She wants to make sure she doesn't make the same mistake this time. If she has the chance to do everything again, she should do it better. And she will.

She looks up, using the stars to gage how much time had passed while she'd been planning. An hour, approximately. She huffs a sigh and snugs her robe closed a bit tighter, flexing her fingers and sending a small spark of fire to the campfire to encourage a bit more warmth.

Her eyes drift to Dorian's tent, pondering how her revealing the truth to him would effect the future. Of all her companions, beside Solas himself, Dorian is the most likely to have the sense to let events play out as they may. She doesn't worry for his silence; she knows he would never be ignorant enough to spill her secret to anyone. Even drunk, Dorian is a formidable player of the Game.

She only worries that sharing her stress with him might alter his mental state enough to cause him distress. He has enough to deal with, without adding her issue to the pile. But he seems to be accepting it without trouble for now. She hopes that remains the case. As long as he stays steady, there's no cause to-

Oh, shit.

Cole.

"Fenedhis," she curses quietly, as dread courses through her. Cole's complete lack of a filter could ruin everything. While in some cases, he has the most uncanny sense of discretion, it is usually the most undermining things that he blurts out for everyone around him to hear. She would need to take the first opportunity she could to speak to him on the way to Skyhold, or at the very least once they arrived, before he had a chance to speak to anyone else there. She'd completely forgotten about him. Ironic, to say the least.

She would give almost anything for some means to block him out, some way to prevent him from hearing her every thought. Despite the anchor and the Well, he had always been able to feel her pain, especially if she was trying to hide it.

That stuffs it then. She will have to tell him everything. Once he knows, he'll have nothing to blurt out from her head except the things that come up randomly, just like last time.

She snorts. So much for keeping her knowledge a secret as long as possible. Dorian already knows, soon Sol... Fen'Harel will know, and she'll have to bring Cole in on the situation not long after.

Chuckling, she leans back on the log bench and gazes up at the stars, shaking her head at the ludicrousness of the whole thing. She hears Fen'Harel chuckling right along with her somewhere in the recesses of her mind, though the voices from the Well maintain their stoic silence. For now.

A muffled thump shakes her from her reverie, the sound issuing out of Dorian's tent. She drags herself to her feet, slowly plodding toward the mage's impromptu quarters, untying the flap and poking her head in to see him wrestling himself free of his furs, on the ground next to his cot.

She chuckles, "Having issues?"

"AH!" his wide eyes are a twin to his open mouth as he looks at her in shock, "Kaffas, you could've at least said something before you just showed up! Are you trying to frighten me to death?"

She can't help but grin, "Sorry Dorian, I heard a thump and thought you might need help. Need a hand up?"

He waves her offering away, "No, but thank you. I'm not used to this whole roughing it thing quite yet. Cots are rather more narrow than what I usually sleep in. But, not to worry, I will adjust."

She chuckles, "I'm not worrying Dorian." she lowers her voice and leans in a bit, "But I will need to talk to you once we get back to Haven. There's... some complications."

He nods, finally freeing himself from the furs in the process. "Understood."

"Anyway, since you're awake, it's third watch, which means you're up for the next two hours. Come on," she waves her hand toward her, holding the tent flaps open as he groans and makes his way out, snugging his slightly rumpled robe around him tighter.

She smirks, "You know, you don't have to wear your robe to bed. I never do. The cots are usually more comfortable without clothing."

He raises an eyebrow, "Good to know. Is there any coffee?"

She shakes her head, "No, but I can make some. Give me a few minutes and I'll have some ready. In the meantime," she grabs a ration from the supply cache and hands it to him, "eat up. This is breakfast for you unless Cassandra feels like cooking when you wake her."

"The Seeker cooks? I never would've guessed."

She snickers, "Never judge a book by it's cover, Dorian. You should know this better than anyone by now. We all cook, though Solas makes the best tea. Ironic, considering he hates tea."

Surprise flickers across his face, "How can anyone hate tea?"

She shrugs, "Got me. Though I suspect he doesn't add any honey. That could explain it."

He shakes his head, "What an odd elf."

She snorts, "Just slightly."

She sighs and sets off for the river to get some water for the coffee, grabbing a pot along the way. She spies her small clothes hanging on the branch where she left them and reaches for them as she approaches, testing their dryness. Still a little damp, but nothing that can't be taken care of with a flame-less fire spell. The same one she remembers being used on her after her flight from Haven by Solas. No, by Fen'Harel.

She sighs, wondering if she'll ever get used to that. If she were any other elf, any other person; if her personal favorite in the elvhen pantheon hadn't always been him... she never could have accepted it. Her clan had never understood her fascination, never joined her praise of the Dread Wolf, never reveled in caring for his image as she had.

Careful respect and suspicion was the best they could ever offer him. But not her, no; she had always been thrilled by the idea of his rebellious nature, always listened with rapt attention when Keeper Deshanna would tell the tales of Fen'Harel.

Her favorite was the story of his slow arrow, where a village had asked for his help against a monster that was terrorizing the people living there. He had laughed and shot a single arrow into the sky, then left. The following night, the monster attacked, killing everyone in the village except the children. As the feral beast turned its gaze on the defenseless young ones, an arrow fell from the sky and pierced through the monster's skull, killing it. Thus, the children of the village lived on, the village was saved.

It was meant to be a cautionary tale, one to indicate that the trickster god had deceived the villagers, despite saving their children.

Fen'da'len had always believed the story to have a deeper meaning, however. That the 'children' of the village were slaves, and the 'adults' their masters. That Fen'Harel had freed the slaves with his slow arrow.

She believes her version of the story to this very moment. As she dips to fill the pot with water, she feels the divine presence in her brush against her mind, a sense of delight coursing through her. 'Is this affirmation? Is my version of the story correct?' she wonders. A vision of a sly grin flashes before her eyes so quickly she nearly misses it. She takes it as confirmation, chuckling and shaking her head as she lifts the filled pot from the river.

She sets it aside and disrobes, sparking her heat spell along her hands as she picks up her underclothes, slipping them on and shrugging her robe back on over them quickly. She picks up the pot and shuffles back to camp with a smile. She works the warming spell through the water, heating it so it wouldn't have to spend long on the fire.

Dorian looks up as he notices her approach. "Oh thank the Maker, I thought I'd have to go looking for you."

She raises an eyebrow, "I wasn't gone that long, Dorian. I just went to the river to get water and grab my small clothes..." she trails off as she notices his eyes widen.

"Dorian, what's wrong?" she sets the pot down on the stand over the fire, sitting on the bench across from him.

He looks unsure as he responds, "Are you absolutely certain that you just got water and knickers at the river?"

She gives an incredulous look, "Yes, I'm sure. Why are you asking me such a strange question? What else could I have done at the river? Put on a song and dance routine for the future Fade walkers that might sleep there?"

"As amusing as that would be, no. But clearly something happened, my dear. Your eyes are glowing in a most disturbing fashion. I don't know how you're doing that, but I would greatly appreciate it if you'd stop."

She blinks, once, twice. "What?! Glowing? Are you- you're shitting me, right?"

He shakes his head, "I'm afraid not," he fishes around distractedly in his robe and produces a small, flat, round object, "look for yourself."

She takes it and opens the small clasp to reveal a mirror - because of course, Dorian would carry a mirror on him, of all things - and looks to see the same eyes staring back at her that she'd seen on Fen'Harel in his temple, just before he'd shifted into his wolf form. A startled gasp escapes her lips as she nearly drops the mirror at the sight.

She looks back up at Dorian with shock on her face, "I have... no idea how to make it stop. He warned me I shouldn't keep it long, oh gods, how am I going to hide this?"

"Who warned you? And keep what? Care to fill the confused mage in, my dear?"

She closes the mirror and hands it back to him, motioning for him to follow as she heads toward the river. Thankfully, he follows after only a moment's hesitation, his curiosity apparently outweighing his caution. When they are not quite to the river, she turns and holds her hand up for him to stop.

"When we were in the future, did you see what happened just before we came back through the portal?"

He huffs, "Not unless you mean everyone dying and me dragging you through the portal just in time to keep a monstrosity from clubbing you in the head. What does that have to do with your eyes glowing?"

She pins him with a look that could make even the most steady man falter, "Everything. Before you pulled me through, Fen'Harel transfered his... spirit, his essence to me. Apparently I'm his vessel or... something. I don't quite understand it all yet. But when you pulled me through, it was different than before. I could feel the time moving, and just before I was supposed to exit, time stopped. And he spoke to me."

He crosses his arms, motioning with one hand to continue, "Well, what did he say?"

"He told me that I shouldn't keep him for long, or it would cause trouble. He also said... well, he said he gave me a gift. And told me to enjoy my long life. I think he gave me the immortality of the ancient elvhen. I've felt different ever since then, and not just because of him in my head, it's something else. I think I can enter Uthenera. I've had this consistent feeling of being able to enter the Fade while awake. That might have been what happened while I was getting water, but I don't see how that made my eyes glow like him." She shrugs helplessly and buries her face in her hands as she plops down on a stump.

He gives a shocked half laugh, "Well aren't you a special flower? Does anything normal ever happen around you, or is it always this chaotic?"

She snorts, lowering her hands to look at him, "I wish something normal would happen. You would not believe what I saw in the Fade while I slept."

"Oh, I don't know, I'd believe just about anything at this point."

She chuckles, "I saw Arlathan. And Fen'Harel's temple. And Fen'Harel in his wolf form, which he freely offered to show me. And magic was everywhere, it was everything, the air I breathed, the ground beneath my feet, the light pouring through crystal branches twining through the trees... it was indescribable. This world lost far more than a beautiful city. It lost almost all of the magic, Dorian. The world we know now wasn't separate from the Fade. It was all one place. It was pure and beautiful and right."

She is on the edge of tears by the time she stops, unable to continue. She shakes her head and gives a sigh that hitches in her throat.

"It sounds beautiful. And frightening. And awe-inspiring. I can only imagine how you managed to recover from waking out of that much majesty. It must've been horrible. I'm sorry I wasn't there to help."

She gives him a sad smile, "Thank you. But it wouldn't have mattered. It would've been difficult no matter who was there to assist. Knowing what we lost, that is my burden, and his. I think his goal is to tear down the veil. Having seen what I have, I'm not sure whether I should stand in his way or help him. This world isn't ready for that, but when would it ever be? Even if we managed to educate everyone - which we couldn't - this world would never truly be ready for such a drastic change. I don't know what to think."

"I don't either. I'll have to think on it. That's a lot to take in. But I do know your eyes have finally stopped glowing. And that if I'm supposed to be watching the camp, I should probably actually be at camp, don't you think?"

She takes a sharp breath, "Right! Yes, you should be. And I should be in bed. Oh, gods, the coffee!"

She hears him chuckle as she bounds up and speeds past him, dashing toward the campfire to finish making the coffee before the water completely evaporates. The crisis is averted, barely. Soon she moves over to Dorian, steaming cup of black liquid in hand.

"Here. Hope it's alright, I think I caught it in time. I should get to bed before I don't get any more sleep at all."

He takes it with a smile, "Thank you, darling," he looks up at the sky, gaging the time with a slight grimace, "Though it looks like I've only got a half hour or so before waking the Seeker. I may just skip the coffee for now, leave it for her."

Her gaze lifts to the sky, "Damn, you're right. Well, go on then, go back to bed. I can hold out for another half hour by myself."

"Are you certain? I can stay up, it's not a problem."

She smiles back down at him, "I'm sure, Dorian. Go, get your beauty rest."

He chuckles, "Well that does make it sound more tempting. Before I go, however, I want to give you something."

He reaches into his robe and pulls out the small mirror he'd let her use earlier, handing it to her.

She shakes her head, "But that's yours. I don't want to deprive you of it."

He places it in her hand and folds her fingers over it gently, "I have an identical one in my horse's pack, dear. I'll live, and you need this more than I do with that little problem of yours," he comments, tapping just beside his left eye socket.

She nods acceptingly, "Fair enough, and you're probably right. Thank you."

He sets the coffee down on the bench beside him, "I know I'm right. And you're welcome, anytime. Anyway, off to bed with me. Nighty-night."

She waves, "Night, Dorian."

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

The rest of the trip back to Haven is rather uneventful, thankfully enough. The sight of the town's gates is more than welcoming when she finally lays eyes on them, dismounting from her horse and handing the reins off to Master Dennet with a thankful nod. She strips her pack from behind the saddle and slings it over her shoulder as she trudges toward the gates. She'll need to put what she can from that pack in her robes before nightfall. Before Haven falls.

Thankfully, she has some time before then. They arrived fairly early, the sun hadn't even reached its peak yet. Plenty of time to speak to everyone, close the Breach, and await disaster. She drops the pack off just inside the door to her house and heads up to start her rounds with Leliana.

She's been considering what she could do to lessen casualties for weeks now, even made a few discrete orders to bolster the walls and construct the trebuchets slightly early, ordering they be manned at all times. It's something. Whether it will help or not is a matter for debate, but even if it doesn't, at least they are that much better prepared. Warning her advisors won't help them prepare, and may just affect their decision making. That is not what she, or the people in Haven need. Casualties are unavoidable. She's done everything she can to lessen them, but they're going to happen. The thought makes bile rise in her throat that she has to swallow back down.

She speaks to her advisors quickly, going over the plans for closing the Breach. She speaks to Fiona and tells her to select her very best mages for the task ahead. She speaks to Varric, telling him to go ahead with planning a little party in celebration. Let them enjoy themselves while they can. She speaks to Sera for a few minutes, though she doesn't have much to say. Next, she heads to Dorian. She doesn't see Fen'Harel in his usual spot outside his house, so she assumes he's inside it for once.

Dorian's not outside either. She knocks on his door and hears him reply, "Come on in, just unpacking!"

She opens the door and slides in, closing it behind her, speaking in hushed tones when she reaches his side, "Dorian, we need to be very quiet, or go somewhere else. He, "she jerks her thumb over her shoulder, in the direction of Fen'Harel's house, "has very good hearing."

Understanding dawns on his face and he nods, ushering her out the door as he follows her. They stroll behind his house to the side of the Chantry, back in the corner before he places his finger over his lips to indicate silence, then begins casting a spell she doesn't recognize. It covers them like a barrier, except there's air between them which is surrounded by the barrier as well. She raises an eyebrow in question as he removes his finger from his lips.

"Privacy barrier. Talk quickly, I can only keep it going for so long."

She nods, "Alright, there's a complication. A young man named Cole will show up tonight, just outside the gate. He is a spirit who's taken the form of a human. Don't ask. He's a spirit of compassion, won't hurt us. Trust him. But he can read minds. Can read pain. His favorite past time is blurting out your most sensitive, deepest pain and trying to help you work it out. Or just saying something really embarrassing that's in your head at the time. Either way, he's a blabbermouth. And he's going to blow our cover. I need to somehow pull him aside-"

Dorian holds his hand up to stop her, "Out of mana."

He releases the spell, slumping against a wall as he rests. She sighs and hands him a lyrium potion. He raises an eyebrow, uncorking and tipping it at her in thanks, then downs it. He re-casts the spell quickly.

She pours her power into him so it isn't so short-lived this time, "I need to pull him aside and explain things to him and pray to all the gods he gets it, because otherwise he will ruin us all by sheer accident."

He seems to think on it a moment before he responds, "So he's a spirit of compassion, not a demon? He's not possessing the boy he appears to be?"

She shakes her head, "No, he is very driven to help people, he's got a heart of gold. He's just got no filter on that whole reading people's pain and blurting it out for everyone to hear thing. It's annoying sometimes, but he means well no matter what he does. He's just... misguided at times. Also, he can make anyone forget that he was ever there. Or forget certain memories if it's needed or asked for. It's a part of the way he helps."

"He sounds dangerous. Are you sure he's trustworthy?"

She nods, "Yes, if I can get him to realize what's going on in our heads before he blabs it to everyone, he's extremely trustworthy. If I can show him what he is to us in the future, maybe I can convince him. He is everyone's friend by the time this is all over, we'd almost all die to protect him."

He raises an eyebrow, "Almost all?"

She rolls her eyes, "Vivienne has an issue with him. She thinks he's a demon, and she never gets past that thought. Too fearful."

"Ah, yes. I can see how that might be problematic. Also, that's a nifty little trick you're doing with the mana channeling, where did you learn that?"

She smirks, "Old elvhen trick. Anyway, I have to go meet Fen'Harel. My time is up. Wish me luck."

He nods, his face serious, "Good luck, dear. I hope it goes well."

She sighs heavily, "You're not the only one. And thanks."

He nods with a small smile and dispels the magic quickly, heading to his house as she heads to the gates. She weaves her way through the throngs of Chantry folk, villagers and mages crowding Haven now, smiling and nodding to those who recognize her as she passes. When she is finally free of the gates, she smiles and waves to Cullen on her way out. He's become used to her taking frequent walks outside the village, so he doesn't question them anymore, but he does try to get her attention this time.

"Solas headed the same direction as your usual walk takes you not five minutes ago, Herald. I thought you should know you might run into him."

She smiles, "Thank you, Cullen. It's no bother. We probably won't even walk the same path."

He nods in return, "True enough. Have a good walk then."

She gives a small bow of her head in thanks, "Thank you."

He returns the bow, then sends his attention to a recruit that hasn't blocked well enough and is now freely bleeding from his nose. "Maker's breath recruit, go see a healer. Maybe that will teach you to block with your shield and not your face next time."

She hears his long-suffering sigh as she snickers and keeps an even pace into the woods. As soon as she is far enough in that she can't see out behind her, she transforms, calling her wolf as she falls forward into a dead run, charging the thick underbrush. She heads straight for the clearing, her nose picking up Fen'Harel's scent strongly along the way; leather and wolf fur, pine and earth with a hint of clean, cool rain.

She bursts into the clearing and feels his magic pooling there before she even sees him. His back is turned; he's seated in apparent meditation, though she knows he's aware of her presence. She shakes the wolf off and stands, drawing closer with gentle footsteps in the grass and flowers surrounding her feet. He's sitting in the center of the clearing, eyes closed as she steps around him, perfectly still and at peace.

She mimics his posture as she softly lowers herself with her legs crossed into a sitting position, deciding that she could do with some meditation as well, if that is what he intends to keep doing. She takes a breath in, filling her lungs with the gentle scent of the flowers and clean grass, then slowly lets it out. Her eyes flutter closed, letting calm serenity overtake her mind, blanking her thoughts and centering herself. Peace washes over her in waves, allowing her to relax for the first time in weeks. Gods, she needed this.

Images begin to flutter at the edges of her blank landscape, flickers here and there, nothing discernible, but worrisome nonetheless. This isn't normal. Usually she can maintain the blank void for hours, but something else is invading her thoughts. She knows it's not the well, it's never bothered her in this manner before. It could be the extra spirit she carries, but that doesn't feel quite right either. Curiosity overcoming her, she opens her eyes. Nothing has changed. Her eyebrow raises, then lowers in a frown. She's almost let her lids slide completely closed when she sees his flutter, on the verge of opening. She opens hers in anticipation, waiting patiently.

But it is not his eyes that open first.

"Do you usually automatically join a person in meditation, little wolf, or am I a special case?" The smirk on his lips tells her he's not angry, his eyes conveying his amusement as the lids over them slip open.

She pretends to ponder the question, "Well, it depends, really. Generally, when I've already declared a meeting place and find the person I've come to meet meditating, it's only polite to join them."

He tilts his head, the amused smirk sharpening fractionally, "That is prudent, I agree. However, I am not here for meditation, little wolf. I am here for the answers you promised."

She leans in, staring him down, "What is the question you seek an answer to? Do not lie, Pride."

His eyebrow raises at her using the interpretation of his chosen name, "I had not intended to, little wolf. But I admit, I am curious what you expect of me; what question it is you think I will ask."

She gives a small, mirthless laugh, "I expect you to lie, Pride. But, perhaps you will surprise me. It is high past time, if that be the case."

Anger steals across his features, though he tempers it, barely, "I have not lied to you, little wolf."

She laughs at him. She shouldn't, but she does. And gods, does it feel good. A warning nip from the divinity in her makes her calm herself, but she is still amused as she regains her focus on his eyes.

"You have lied in more ways than I can count, Pride. But I will forgive you. Because I must. Because I understand the deception, far better than you realize. Because I have never truly held ill will against you, even in your darkest moment and mine."

He sneers at her, "If you have come to speak in mocking riddles, I will have no part in it. You may riddle the trees, if you wish."

He moves to leave, but she grasps his arm. He tries to yank free, but finds he can't, consternation and confusion marring his face at his discovery.

"Release me!"

"No. You will sit. And you will listen."

~O~O~O~O~O~O~

The grip on his arm is far stronger than it should be. There is far more strength in that grasp than the small, taunting creature before him had ever had. Curiosity makes him relent. His interest is fully piqued now; he will not leave until he has the answers he seeks. He will listen, if that is what it takes. It isn't until he has fully returned to his previously seated position that she releases his arm, her features smoothing into an infuriating calm that he cannot replicate. But oh, he tries to.

"Very well, little wolf. Spin your tale, I will listen. But I warn you, if you spin a web of lies, you will choke on it."

He calls her little wolf half as a term of endearment, half as a slight now. It had only been endearment for weeks now, but she is taunting and insulting him now. The mere fact that he tolerates it at all is a sign of how dear she is to him.

"I spin no lies, Pride. That is your job. And do not try to deny that you have lied. I know the truth. I see through your deceptions into who and what you really are, and I will hear no more lies from your lips. If you wish that which would join you, either one, you will speak truth and let the lies release you from their grasp."

He growls. More cryptic nonsense. Or is it? He isn't sure. Surely she can't possibly know the real truth. His gaze traces the slave brands on her face and neck, the brands that bind her to him in her ignorance. In the ignorance of her entire people, the people he once tried to save. The people who now reject him and see him as betrayer.

He decides to test her. She knows nothing, surely. There is no harm in playing a game with her.

"If you know so much, little wolf, then say my name properly. I will even say yours, if you prefer."

An offer to sweeten the deal while testing her.

A smirk pulls at her lips, "If you insist; though you need not change your version of my name, only your tone, Fen'Harel."

Everything stops. His heart, his breath, the very fabric of time feels frozen as his real name passes through those tender lips. His eyes are fixed on hers, wide in shock as he can feel the curve of her lips pulling upward into a wicked smile that tells him she knows she's won.

Anger rushes away as if a cool river has diverted its course to flow over him and wash it all away, leaving only shock, wonderment, and fear. He has been so careful, so particular in how much information he's given, so careful in his web of constructed lies. And now he is the one choking on it.

A snicker issues from the creature in front of him, "I've rendered the Dread Wolf speechless. I should mark the day. What an accomplishment!" she smiles, but it is somehow not unkind.

"Would you like to hear my proposal, Fen'Harel?"

He stares at her, wondering at how she can be so calm, so collected. He nods, despite his dread at what she might say.

"Very well. I propose that you never again lie to me. That you tell me the truth when I ask it. Because I know who you are now, Fen'Harel. I can call you in Uthenera to my side as quickly as you can to me, and rip the truth from your dreams. You will not lie to me again. In return, I will give you that which is yours, as well as that which is truly only mine to give."

He snorts, "First, you cannot enter Uthenera. You are not an immortal elvhen. Second, I have no idea what it is you are speaking of. You have nothing of mine to give, and I do not desire anything which you can give beside the mending of the rifts."

He is sure of himself. She may know who he is, but she has no idea what she is talking about. She has nothing he needs beside the magic from the anchor, which he already knows he will need his foci to retrieve. If it isn't already tied to her soul, at least. Even if it is, that is not the worst loss. His foci will have more than enough power for his plans.

He watches as she tilts her head, open curiosity written across her face, "Is that really all you see, Fen'Harel? Are you truly certain? Perhaps it would behoove you to look before you leap into a chasm of ignorance."

At her last words, he begins to see something impossible. Her eyes darken, then illuminate, blue against black, the smoke of divinity seeping from the corners of her eyes, thin though it may be, to curl around her arms in a pattern that he recognizes all too well. He grips her arms in his hands, trying to block the magic flowing through her before she can finish casting. The panic is sure to be clear in his eyes as they flick over her face, desperation in his voice as he begs her not to do this.

"Stop! No, do not do this, lethallan, please! It will kill you! Please!"

He watches, horror stricken as she pushes him off and back, finishing the spell and transforming before him into his wolf. Only, it's smaller. After a few moments, he realizes it is her wolf and his, a perfect blend. Six blue eyes, but on her wolf's small frame. He can tell she's having trouble holding the shape, but she struggles on, taking small, painful steps toward him. On the last step, she falters, whimpering pitifully as her front legs wobble and give out, crashing her upper body to the ground in a bowing position. Her back legs struggle to hold the rest of her up. He cannot take any more.

"Please, lethallan, change back," he moves to his hands and knees and leans down to lower his face to hers, "Please, I beg you. This ancient magic is not meant to be used by any but the gods themselves, it will kill you if you persist."

Her back legs give out as her rump joins the rest of her on the ground. Why is she holding out? What does she want? She stretches her neck forward and licks the tip of his nose, then collapses, her eyes beginning to drift closed.

"NO! No, no, no, no, not like this, not like this!"

Then, it hits him, "I agree. I agree to your proposal. Is that what you want?"

She gives a weak wag of her tail in response, too weak to do anything else.

"Then yes, if it will save your life, I agree. Please, lethallan, give up this lethal exercise. I agree."

A great sigh of relief issues from her as she slowly shakes from one side to the other, dismissing the magic. The smoke quickly dissipates, flowing back into her eyes as the divine glow fades and retreats, her normal form returning. She is left prone on the ground, shaking with weakness, her face inexplicably shining with gratitude and relief.

He quickly begins to heal her, pouring his power into her to help restore her mana to the point of weakening himself temporarily to see her as fully recovered as he can make her. If she is somehow his vessel, he will not see her fall to the power she holds. As she finally gets some strength back in her limbs, she begins to slowly sit up, letting him aid her with supportive hands until she is sitting up properly, then waving him off.

She takes a few ragged breaths, using one arm to steady herself against the ground. She looks at him and nods, the same nod she always uses to say that she is alright, he can stop worrying. But the truth is, he never stops worrying. It's past time he admitted that to himself. That simple truth is more liberating than he ever imagined. To admit that he cares about her, about another living soul. He is not sure what it will mean in the long run, but there will be a long run, if what she's said is true.

He shakes his head, "How? How did this happen?"

She tries to chuckle, but it ends in a cough that racks her small frame for several moments before she recovers. She takes a few softly rasping breaths before she tries to explain.

"Redcliffe. The red lyrium future. I told you the truth there. Before we came back, you gave me your essence, gave everything, turned to stone, then Dorian pulled me through the portal. I... it would be easier to let him tell you. He's ready now."

He eyes her skeptically, "Did he make you transform to force my hand?"

She chuckles, successfully this time. "No. That was me. You wouldn't believe me if I didn't give proof, and he was being too stubborn to just give himself over. I pushed both of you. Not very smart of me, but here we are."

A pained smile etches itself onto his lips, "Indomitable will, indeed, little wolf. I yield. You have most certainly won this game."

She laughs, "Not yet, I haven't."

Suddenly, she coils and pushes forward, her hands grasping the sides of his face as her lips crash into his, shocking a gasp from him that she takes advantage of to flick her tongue across the tip of his, teasing, demanding as he feels her smile against his lips.

Then, he feels the pull of power as it rushes from her, sliding into him, fixing itself to his soul as a torrent of images flashes through his mind, memories, emotions, agony, bliss, tearing through his senses all at once. The kiss is broken, but he doesn't notice, his mind and soul are overflowing with the power and memories of his own soul but not, one removed and different, but still familiar. It is too much.

He sifts through it all, unable to register everything at first, when at once, he becomes aware that it isn't only his doubles's memories that came across, but hers. Hers, with her memory of the... future? Not the red lyrium future, but the very real future she had lived for over a year; all the memories of the places they'd gone, the wars she'd fought, the Games she had learned to play in various courts, the... kiss stolen in the Fade, the return of it with bold passion.

The love that formed over time, the kiss on the balcony where he warned her that it would be more kind if he left. The fluttering of her heart when he turned back and kissed her with the ferocity of someone who knew he was going to lose her, but wanted to remember those fleeting moments of happiness, knowing it would devastate her, but being too selfish to stop.

He sees her drink of the Well of Sorrows, watches as she is pulled into Uthenera, another place a mortal should never be able to enter, as the voices of eons speak to her, demanding that she bind herself to the service of Mythal for eternity in exchange for their wisdom. She agrees, desperation driving her on. He feels her heart sadden at his disappointed words after they return to Tarasyl'an Te'las.

The moment in the grotto, the flow of magic over her face as he removed the vallaslin to see her true beauty... his heart nearly bursts as he sees the adoration in his eyes, behind the reflection of her face. Then, the crushing defeat as he walks away. He watches the memory as she collapses there, she cannot see him anymore, he is gone. She falls to her knees and cries out in wordless agony as the cold reality of truth sets in that he has abandoned her, completely and utterly.

The vision of memory slowly shifts to the defeat of Corypheus, the breaking of his foci, the claim that whatever comes, what they had was real falling on deaf ears. It was too little, too late. The shift to her standing alone on the same balcony they'd kissed on, staring straight ahead at the dawn with coldness in her heart that settles deep in her bones.

The futile searches for him as her advisors look on in pity, giving the searches their best effort because they can see the pain eating at her, chipping away her resolve day by day. She avoids sleep, because sleep will bring the Fade, and the Fade will bring images of him she cannot bear to see, cannot stand to remember, lest her resolve shatter. When her body can no longer stand it, she collapses into her bed and cries herself to sleep, weeping for the void in her chest where her heart should be.

And as she finally jolts awake in the Fade, the scene spills out before her of him approaching Mythal, of her giving her power, such as it is, to him, a second orb of power following quickly and jolting him with the strength of it. He hears his little wolf gasp and sees his Fade vision self turn sharply to look for the source of the sound, but she forces herself awake before his eyes see her. Eyes glowing with the power of divine.

He watches as she deals with the revelation of his identity, feels her wanting to disbelieve it, but slowly putting the facts together, puzzling the pieces until she sees the entire picture. It takes a week, but she finally understands. Where he expects fear or anger, he sees.. elation. Sadness, but understanding. Forgiveness.

She sleeps more soundly now, though she still cries herself to sleep, but it is for missing him, and not for the void that is no longer there. The void that is slowly being replaced by a living, beating heart. Hardened, steeled with resolve, but alive.

She sleeps and wakes, and she is in barred manacles. It all starts again. He watches as the events of the past months fly by, watches as she hides her truth until she cannot hold it any longer. Watches as she first tells Dorian, then him in that horrid future.

Watches as he sacrifices himself and gives himself into her care. Watches as he explains in the void of the time portal what he has done. He understands it now. but he keeps watching as the previous night plays through his mind, showing her Arlathan, his temple, his true form. Kissing her with the love and passion she deserves. Feeling the absence of magic when she wakes and her panicked realization of what the world had lost. Of what he had done. Of what he intended to do.

He sat and watched as it kept playing until the moment she kissed him. It stops.

He gasps for breath, his eyes wide and wild, searching for an anchor as he falls forward on his hands, his fingers digging into the grass and dirt as he re-orients himself to this world. It is almost as painful as the transition she had felt on waking from Arlathan.

He feels a cool hand touch his cheek, and he raises his head to look at her. Her expression is concerned, curious. She doesn't speak, letting her magic speak for her as it reaches out to caress the cheek she isn't touching, displacing the tears that roll down, ones he hadn't even realized he'd shed.

He stares at her, feeling the tendrils of his darkened heart reach out and take root in hers. Feels his soul unravel, as the threads weave themselves into the ragged edges of her own. His words, all of his cleverness, every thought leaves him as he feels the binding take hold, wrenching and pulling him inextricably toward her as he surges forward, gathering her in his arms and crushing his lips to hers, desperately clinging to her as though she is the one thing holding him to the ground at this moment, because she is.

He kisses her with every ounce of passion he can muster, his magic enveloping her and caressing her, letting his emotions flow through it and showing her exactly how much he loves her, how much he desires her, and how completely certain he is that he will never leave her side again.

When he finally breaks apart, reluctantly, for air, he speaks in ancient elvhen, because he knows she will understand now.

"I am so sorry for the pain I put you through, my heart, my desire, my soul. I do not know if you can forgive me, but if you can find it within you to do so, I will never leave your side again. This, I will swear, on any name you choose."

She gives him a happy, but somewhat wicked grin, replying in ancient elvhen, "Swear on none but your own name, Fen'Harel. I bind you to your oath on your own name. It is an oath you can never break, lest you be untrue to yourself."

He rests his forehead on hers, locking his eyes with hers as he replies, "Then I swear on my soul, on my heart, on my desire, and on my name, for they all belong to you."

She smiles, tears tipping over her lashes and down her cheeks. He kisses them away, tasting the salt on his lips as he kisses hers, sealing the oath and the bond. He holds her tightly to him as he presses his forehead to hers gently, their breaths mixing as he softly speaks.

"I love you, little wolf."

She grins, "And I love you, Dread Wolf."