Solas led her at a brisk pace to the eluvian she had come across earlier with the black powder in front of it. Neither of them spoke much over the short journey; both minds were fully occupied on thoughts of their missing daughter. The silence was broken, however, when Mirana posed a very valid question.
"What if you're wrong and the Qunari have nothing to do with this? My presence here could be seen as a declaration of war!"
Solas merely shook his head. "I have sources within the Qun. They have informed me of their plot to break Thedas from within through the assassination of its leadership. I had originally believed it would wait until the Exalted Council, but they must have decided to single you out." He assumed this scheme was orchestrated to draw him here as well, as the Qunari desired possession of his growing network of eluvians. Of course, they thought him merely an agent of the elven god. The Qunari had no idea what they had unleashed.
She folded her arms across her chest, sending him an exasperated look. "So, what you're telling me is I'm either a) waltzing into a grand assassination attempt or b) declaring war upon a nation of giant, horned warriors?"
"I believe 'a' to be the more likely option, if that brings you any comfort." He shot her something that might have been a smile if not for the rage that boiled beneath his skin.
She sighed, muttering to herself as she followed him through, "Well, I suppose anything would be better than another-" She was cut off by the sounds of a thousand yells and a thousand swords clashing against steel. What appeared to be hundreds of Inquisition troops were engaged with phalanx upon phalanx of Qunari forces. She felt nauseous. "Bloody, fucking war," she hissed, eliciting a slightly amused look from Solas.
Cullen, who was shouting orders while battling a warrior wielding a very large axe, caught Mirana's look of intense consternation. After a bewildered double-take, he produced the most impressive nonverbal, "shit," Mirana had ever seen before jabbing his sword into his enemy's stomach and hurrying over. "Inquisitor!" he exclaimed, wiping some of the blood and sweat on his face off onto his sleeve as if self-conscious. "I thought you were—why are you—why is he—oh, sweet Maker." He pressed a hand to his forehead, glaring around himself in disbelief. "I sent a group of scouts into the eluvian at Skyhold where they discovered the trail you had presumably left. A Dalish elf greeted them and told them that the Qunari were holding both you and Mallie prisoner." Solas raised a curious eyebrow at this nickname, but refrained from interrupting.
"Naturally, I had the scouts check this claim before I brought the troops in. Trust me," he gave her an earnest look, "I would not provoke war lightly, no matter how well the elf appeared to be acquainted with you, but…" He swallowed, jaw clenching as the familiar anger was awoken. "The scouts said that while they were scoping the grounds of this place, they… they heard her. Screaming."
Mirana grew faint, her skin dulling to a pale gray as the world shattered to pieces underneath her. Were they hurting her? How could anyone lay even a hair on her baby, her kind, trusting Mala'nan? The thought of them corrupting her, twisting her gentle nature into something vile and broken was more than enough to send her over the edge. She swatted away the hands that had moved to steady her, trying not to tremble as fingernails dug into her palms. "They will all die," she whispered, her voice like gravel.
Cullen hastened to amend his report. "Well, we're not certain she's being hurt. Young children do have the tendency to scream when they're hungry, or tired, or-"
"Or scared," Mirana interjected, stony gaze sweeping the thick castle walls she knew contained her daughter. "We must find a way in. Have your troops had any luck?"
He shook his head. "They met us as the gate, almost as if they knew we were coming. We had no opportunity to break through the door. If I am familiar with the structure of castles, however, there's a good chance of an alternative entrance somewhere-" He faltered when he noticed a spark of green energy erupt from Mirana's left hand. "Are you alright?" he asked, eyebrows knitted in concern. She winced, as if the outburst caused her some discomfort, then clutched the hand with her other.
"Ah, yes, I think. That was strange; it doesn't usually act up unless I'm near a rift." She massaged her hand for a moment before sending Solas a sidelong look. "But nothing to worry about, I'm sure?"
The elf, who had been sporting an impatient scowl for the extent of this exchange, stared down at her Anchor, plainly perplexed. He was aware of the toll she would eventually have to pay for her gift, but figured it was too soon. For now, it would be merely a sting, like a shockwave pulsating through the nerves of her hand, but soon—and he'd no way to predict how soon—it would progress into a full-body trauma so intense it would take her life, and likely the lives of those around her. It troubled him how untroubled she appeared; her words carried a note of anxiety, yet her expression was hardly one of bewilderment. "Has this happened before, Mirana?" he asked carefully.
She swallowed before reluctantly nodding. The last thing she needed right now was for them to be worried about her, not with her daughter being used as bait. "Just one or two times, but it's really not a problem. Please, let's just focus on the task at hand."
"Yikes!" a voice quipped from behind them. "That was one of your worst yet." The three whipped around to see Illivere posing casually in front of the eluvian. Mirana's eyes widened in pleasant surprise whereas Cullen's narrowed in suspicion. The elf gave the commander a broad grin, unthreatened by both his position and the scar on his frowning lips. "Don't worry, we go back a-ways. Right, Mimi?" he teased, using the childhood nickname he knew she despised.
"We have neither the time nor the patience for this," Solas growled. At Mirana's puzzled expression, he explained, "Illivere is one of Fen'harel's agents within the Ben-Hassrath. He is our main informant on the activities of the Qun." He paused, guiltily amused at the look of absolute mortification on her face. "I realize this is a bit… awkward."
Cullen, oblivious to the implications of this statement, queried the jaunty rogue on less personal matters. "You said that you and the Inquisitor are, uh, old friends? Ah, well it is good to meet another Lavellan. At least, I assume you're of the same clan." He shook his head. "Regardless, I must ask: have you spoken to anybody bearing the mark of the Inquisition recently?" His knowledge on elven history and lore was limited, but he was almost certain that nothing he had read mentioned anything of Fen'harel's agents. His opinion of Solas already low, he was quick to grow suspicious of him as well as Illivere. The idea that he had left Mirana to join a cultist group of spies was enough to make his jaw clench.
Illivere cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. "Uh, no, I don't think so. Are you looking for someone?"
"No, I was merely curious," Cullen lied. Though his voice remained cordial, his instincts made him chary to trust the newcomer.
Mirana, whose mood had only improved slightly at the sight of her friend, brought the group back into focus. "So you work with the Ben-Hassrath, then? Would that by any chance give you any insight on the layout of this castle?"
Illivere nodded. "That's why I'm here, actually. I got word that there was all this," he gestured to the sea of battlers before them, "going on and I figured you could use some help. I was stationed here for some time—welcome to the Darvaarad, by the way! It boasts quite a pretty view of the ocean when there's not a thousand men trying to kill each other to block it." The commander appeared as if he were preparing his interrogation as he spoke, so he decided to start moving. "I know of a sort of secret entrance on the east side." He drew his daggers as he headed into the battlefield. "We can try and blend in. The passage is just a couple hundred feet away," he said as he pointed one of his jagged blades to a drum tower conveniently located in the thick of battle. "Watch out for those shock troopers—their axes hurt even worse than they look."
Mirana hurried after him, bow drawn and posture wary, leaving Cullen and Solas to exchange a meaningful glare before they both moved to guard her back. The crowd of fighters became progressively thicker as they traversed, initially undetected. But a group comprised of three elves and a large man clad in furs will inevitably draw some attention when surrounded by a horde of Qunari. Several Defenders were the first to notice this oddity and charged them, swords glinting like the sunlight on their bared teeth.
Illivere immediately rolled out of the way, slipping into stealth in preparation to stab the assailant in the back. Mirana, now unguarded in the front, narrowly escaped the blade aiming to maim her with a well-timed leap in the opposite direction. Focused on sending a hail of arrows at her attacker, she failed to notice the massive shock trooper she nearly landed on top of. He, of course, noticed her and quickly smashed his axe into her unguarded side. Fortunately, Solas had cast a barrier on her the moment Illivere had left her side, but the force from the impact still sent her flying. Cullen rushed to her side to help her up, his hands gentle with uncertainty as they guided her waist and shoulder. She tried to shrug off his sympathies, but the blow had knocked away the majority of the barrier and she was heavily winded, leaving her to lean against him for support.
Solas, witnessing this out of the corner of his eye, was immediately pelted with unexpected stones of jealousy. His rhythmic fire flinging only hesitated for a moment, however, before it became much more aggressive. Cullen's affections had been obvious to him just through observation of how the man regarded her. The commander had always had an infatuation of sorts with Mirana—even when Solas was still at Skyhold—but she had never, to his knowledge, reciprocated any of these sentiments. But now, after two years of his absence, the way she smiled at him caused him to believe otherwise. She had every right to this; Solas wanted her to spend the last of her time happy, which was something he knew he could never make her. But there was still a side to him that still clung desperately to the love they had shared, wishing it to be anything but gone. Of all the things he had prepared himself to lose, her affection had been the most difficult.
The Qunari that had hit Mirana was soon up in flames as Solas immolated him mercilessly. The scent of burning flesh filled the thick, salty air as deep screams were added to the already deafening roar of battle. Now on her feet, her eyes met his in surprise at his violent outburst. He merely nodded before sending a Fade boulder crashing into another warrior that had crept up behind him.
The fighting was becoming intense as more and more realized that it was indeed the Inquisitor pelting them with arrows. Unfortunately for their attackers, it meant Mirana and her followers had to silence each voice proclaiming her name, lest they allow word of their presence to spread to the kidnappers. Though she hadn't shot in a while, her bow was practically an extension of her arm and a volley of poison-tipped arrowheads were quickly embedded in her foes. Though not at her side, Solas remained as vigilant as he had always been when she was endangered. He cast barrier after barrier despite the annoying truth that Cullen would let nothing within a few feet of her. Illivere was more difficult to spot on the battlefield, darting around his opponents with the deadly inconspicuousness of a needle. Soon, with a bloody trail of bodies in their wake, they finally reached a low-lying tunnel obscured by moss. Illivere peeled it aside and gestured for them to follow him into its dark depths.
They were enshrouded in a sudden blackness. Three pairs of elven eyes—two blue, one green—glinted at each other, reflecting the sudden emerald glow from their leader's hand. The brown, human eyes took longer to adjust to the dim surroundings, but quickly grew mesmerized by the light beneath them. Cullen stared at it in bewilderment before turning his gaze to the long shadows it cast upon her face. Had she always been this gaunt? Though she met his expression evenly, he didn't fail to notice the slight quiver of her shoulders.
"I don't suppose this is what you would consider typical, is it?" Cullen remarked.
Mirana flexed her fingers as if to abate the sporadic jolts of fire that were traveling through her nerves. The Anchor had been rather problematic recently, true, but it had never maintained at this level for more than a few seconds. Her small bones curled into a fist as she caught Solas' frown. Did he know something about this? What was another secret to him, anyways?
"What is it, Solas?" she asked, voice tilted in agitation.
He shook his head. When had he allowed himself to become so transparent? He had been away from her for so long, perhaps he had forgotten the extra effort it took when she was near. "I was merely thinking of our daughter," he lied, still refusing to use her given name. He added curtly, "We mustn't waste any time," before starting off into the black expanse ahead.
Illivere sent Mirana a suggestive grin after Solas was out of ear. "A little unexpected, I'll admit," he said, referring to their previous relationship, "But as they say, 'go big or go home,' I guess. To be honest, I wasn't sure the old guy was capable of feeling, but you've proven me very wrong. Doubt he could do it in a tree, though." He winked before ducking out of the way of a well-deserved smack to the head.
"He's not that old," she muttered. And what had he meant by, 'go big or go home?' "Regardless, can you start moving? We're on an important mission. Unless, of course, you have more inappropriate commentary on my love life?"
"I do, of course, but I'm afraid if your commander hears any more he might start steaming at the ears," Illivere pointed out, then slipped into the shadows to both catch up with Solas and avoid the verbal barrage he felt forming on Cullen's breath.
After he was gone, he exhaled largely as if the armor had been lifted from his shoulders. "The nerve! You have… strange taste, Inquisitor."
"I've been told," she replied dryly, breaking into a brisk walk.
Cullen kept up with her as they followed the sound of footsteps ahead. Truthfully, he was thankful that the other two members of the party had went ahead. In addition to his desire to speak with her privately, the corridor was also growing progressively narrower, barely containing enough room for the both of them, let alone four. He tried to ignore the occasional brush of her hand against his, quickly proving torturous even though it was accidental. He was well aware of where her feelings lay when it came to him after her words at the eluvian, yet he could not deny the poignant ache that had resided within his chest ever since. He knew she was still desperately in love with Solas—he was reminded of it every time she cast her eyes in his direction—and it made him hate her a little. Not nearly as much as he despised her former lover, but the animosity towards her fickle emotions was certainly there, nestled deep within the knot in his belly.
They remained silent for some time, he, fuming, while she charged onwards, a bolt of light. Neither she nor the other elves required much light to see, which made Cullen thankful for the odd outburst from her hand, at least for now. She was trying to catch up to Solas and Illivere while also making sure Cullen wasn't left to stumble aimlessly in the dark. An impatient scowl resided on her face as she tried to think of anything except the potential fate of her daughter. She focused on counting her breaths first, then on their footsteps, then on the steady drip of some unseen water, then finally on Cullen's occasional grunt as he bumped his head on a low-hanging stalactite.
"You wouldn't have any clue this place was built for Qunari," he grumbled, partly to himself, as he rubbed at the lump amassing above his forehead.
"Perhaps it's used by the non-Qunari members," Mirana suggested.
Cullen cleared his throat before digressing towards his intended topic. "Your friend, uh, Illivere, is it? How long have you known him?"
Mirana knitted her brows in suspicion. "Ever since I was a child. Is there a reason you ask?"
"Well, to put it frankly, I don't trust him." Before she could object, he continued. "You were certain of his death before, weren't you? Yet now he walks before us a member of the Ben-Hassrath? In addition to that, how could he have known we were here, Mirana? You seemed just as surprised as the rest of us at his appearance, so I can assume you didn't share your plans with him. Even if he is with the Ben-Hassrath, the eluvian—their only known way of traveling to his location—was surrounded by our men. He would have no way of knowing we were here, unless he was the elf that sent us here in the first place. The elf that caused us, regardless of his validity, to virtually declare war on the Qunari nation," he hissed, voice hardly above a whisper.
Caught off-guard by this accusation, it took Mirana a few seconds to respond. "You think he had something to do with this? Why would Illivere want us to wage a war with his own people? Well, his new people," she added, slightly morose, before continuing to defend her oldest friend. "There are plenty of explanations for him showing up here when he did. Perhaps he saw you and the few thousand others wandering the Crossroads, looking like a bunch of-"
"And who is this Fen'harel they're supposedly working for?" He cut her off; he often grew conveniently deaf at times of quarrel. "Solas spoke as if you were already aware of their ties to this… this entity."
"Forgive me, Cullen, I wasn't in a particularly investigative mood when, after two years of searching, I stumbled across the father of my child. A child who just so happens to be missing right now, so I would greatly appreciate it if you-"
"I don't understand how you can place so much blind faith in people you used to know, Mirana. In two years, people can change more than you think. I didn't want to start an argument, now especially, but my fear is that this Fen'harel character might have played a role in taking Mallie."
Mirana abruptly stopped and whisked around to face him, features cast in green shadow. She was well-aware of his feelings towards Solas, but she didn't think he could be dense enough to believe he might have anything to do with this. "He's her father," she said fiercely.
"Is he really? I'd no idea!" he retorted, his tone sardonic. "It's not as if I'm reminded of it every time you open your mouth."
"Maybe if you set aside your emotions—which are absolutely ridiculous, might I add—we might have a chance at saving her. Or does she no longer matter to you as long as there's no possibility of me loving you back?" she snarled at him, straightening up so she could glare directly into his eyes.
He nearly backed off when she got into his face, but managed to stand his ground. He could've sworn the light within her clenched fist flashed as if it too was caught in the frenzy of anger. He scowled down at her, fighting off the vicious words that were threatening to slice the self-satisfied smirk off of her face. His chest rose and fell as his blood grew warm with rage. How had he ever thought her to be kind? Gentle soul, his arse. To take this vulnerable part of him and twist it so wretchedly made him consider whether loving her was worth it. Of course it wasn't; why in the Maker's name had he ever thought this would work? It had been a battle lost before the first sword even unsheathed.
Finally, he stepped away from her, head shaking in defeat. "Whatever impression I gave to cause you to believe that I loved you, I'm very sorry for. You should know, though, that regardless of how I feel towards you, my feelings towards your daughter have always been genuine." He felt numb. "I'm sorry for the distraction. We should get moving."
He watched her eyes widen in astonishment, any smugness wiped clean from her face. She had expected him to yell at her, to put up the fight she knew he was capable of. To see the commander back down from any challenge was disheartening to say the least. Now, for some reason, she felt especially disappointed. Surely she hadn't been wanting him to assure her that it wasn't true, that she had even the smallest chance of happiness lest Solas fled her open arms again? But she had denied him one too many times and he had never liked being in second place.
The pain was evident in his expression, almost as obvious as the regret within hers. They stared at each other, absorbing the effect their actions had produced, before Mirana looked away in shame. Loose strands of hair shielded her face as she watched him begin to walk away, eyes seeming to finally have adjusted.
"Cullen…" she began, then was forced to stop as a sudden wave of agony jarred her entire arm. It felt as if someone had taken a knife and split open her veins and hot blood was pouring out so quickly she was losing consciousness. She let out a scream as she crumpled to her knees. The light in her palm had flickered out, bathing the two in complete blackness as she writhed.
"Mirana! What happened?" He was soon back at her side, hands gripping her shoulders firmly. "Is it the mark?"
She merely had time to nod before another blast ripped down her limb and a large explosion ensued. They were both sent flying into the nearest wall, bodies splashing as they landed in a small puddle of grimy water. Coughing madly, Mirana could feel herself being shaken and, beyond her ringing ears, saw Cullen mouthing something to her as he pointed upwards. Grasping her aching skull, she shook her head, uncomprehending. Overwhelmingly dizzy, she looked to where he was directing her just as the roof of the tunnel collapsed upon them.
