So, I owe you guys an apology I suppose. I get so afraid nobody is reading and that my story is crap so I get caught up in other endeavors. I'd like to thank Admerxin13 for demanding more; even just this small little comment meant so much to me and made me think I should keep going.

Also, this is an action chapter by necessity. I know, I'm sorry, I want to skip to the hot sex too but I'm trying to build up to that. Also I think I really hate the writing style I've been using recently? It's so … clinical I don't even get hot from reading it, which kind of defeats the purpose. Bear with me, here, darlings, I'm going to try to write this chapter more story-like and I SUCK at describing people/action/places so some parts of this might feel a little forced :((


When the others caught up to them it was business as usual. The group of them pressed forward, collecting the remaining emerald seals without much difficulty. Once they settled back into their familiar patterns, Liara was free to contemplate the gravity of the decision she'd made to fraternize with Bull. With all the agonizing she'd done about the first time she'd kissed him, it troubled her that she didn't feel more regret for what she'd just done. All of the excuses she'd made previously for why she shouldn't pursue romance with Bull just didn't hold up.

She'd had so many worries. That he couldn't be discreet. That it would be inappropriate to have a relationship with one of her inner circle or that her attraction to him would compromise their mission and prove to be too distracting. Perhaps the most fearful lie she'd told herself was that it would be cheating on Solas – assuming he even cared or came back.

But as they moved through the ruin she realized how foolish, in turn, each of her excuses had been. She didn't have to worry about Bull they way she'd worried about Solas. Bull would never need her protection, for one. For another, he was remarkably laissez-faire about, well, everything. Solas, by contrast, tended to be prone to mood swings and had a habit of vanishing whenever he needed space – which, in retrospect was far too often. It actually instilled a perverse joy in her to know that Solas would most definitely not have approved of her relationship with the Qunari. She smiled wickedly at the Dalish mosaic to her left, meaning to taunt the memory of her former lover. As soon as she did it, though she regretted that she had. Solas might have abandoned her without explaining himself, and a part of her still really wanted to hate him for that, but pretending what this… thing… whatever it was that she was doing with Bull was just a way to get back at him for leaving left a bitter taste in her mouth.

But she had a dungeon to conquer first.

With the last of the emerald seals in hand, she used them to breach the final chamber and last resting place of the emerald knights.

Her breath caught as she stepped gingerly into the vast chamber before her. Was this really a place of her people? How much had been lost to the ravages of time and the brutish abuses of the humans? How much had been reclaimed by nature, or wound seamlessly with it?

The chamber was exquisitely tiled, and expertly laid – broad columns stretched up the center, reaching for the open sky above it and the strong trees that shaded it with a lovely green canopy. From the moment the door was unlocked, she felt her whole being filled with a holy resonance, almost a hum, which was at once beautiful and sad. It was a tomb of heroes, of knights beloved and stolen away. Every time the stepped, the pads of her feet carried a strange, resonating energy straight to her head with a warning: 'walk softly here, young one, and trust nothing solely on appearances'.

Chills raced up and down her spine at the unbidden words; these distant impressions left by her former kin. She looked to the others, who walked in calmly behind her. They admired the cavern as well but seemed unperturbed. It was quite likely that they were not experiencing the same impressions that she was, much as they had not felt the energies of the temple of Mythal as she had – humans had weak senses to the dull whispers of gentle, natural magics of her people.

Suddenly her heart lurched and panged with the sharp desire to have Solas back at her side. He would know what she was feeling. With a tender hand on her shoulder, he'd assure her that everything was alright. This was his area, his domain; he'd know what to do. She swallowed, pressing ever further into the tomb. She'd just come to depend on him and his silent, invisible strength of spirit so much over their adventures that she felt almost naked in these ruins without him. And she supposed she was, in a way. Without her vallaslin, she probably had as little right to tread on this holy ground as a city elf. Best to make this quick then. Figure out what the Venatori wanted with this place and get the hell out before the dead rose to accuse her.

"What," said Cassandra, cutting through her reverie and pointing just beyond to the center of the chamber, "is that?"

Liara squinted into the sunlit center, trying to make out what she was seeing. There, suspended in the air, illuminated by glowing purple flames, was a neatly wrapped scroll. It hung too far from the cavern floor to reach and too far from the edge to reach without a good running leap. And, of course, there was the matter of the magical fire. There was no telling what kind of enchantment had been placed on the mysterious treasure. Would it burn her if she tried to retrieve it without the proper ritual? Might it immolate the delicate parchment to protect its contents from unworthy eyes?

"Vivian, what do you make of this?" The lot of them walked to the edge together, inspecting the quiet spectacle. There was no heat and no crackling, no true fire, and yet it danced in mesmerizing blues and reds, licking at the air and emanating an uneasy pulse of danger. The tired mage stretched out both arms and closed her eyes, getting a feel for the flame's energies, touching invisible threads of power that would tell her of the tapestry woven around the scroll. As ever, Vivian was careful to mask her expression and the effort this exploration was costing her – the only sign that she was exerting any effort at all was a slight trembling in her fingers. She was done a moment later, dropping her arms gracefully to rest on the flaring hips of her robe.

"Nothing to be alarmed by, my dear. It's actually dreadfully primitive."Liara barely resisted the urge to glare a warning at the mage about calling my peoples' magic primitive. "It's a protective magic tethered to these sconces. Lighting them will grant us access. It couldn't be simpler. But," she added with one of her trademark wicked smiles, "I should warn you that turning these particular keys will release a fair amount of magic. It's likely, in this place, spirits will be drawn to the dead."

Liara raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"So you are saying we might encounter undead resistance," said Cassandra. It wasn't a question.

"Heh, easy pickings compared to those Venatori mages," commented The Iron Bull dryly.

Liara wasn't quite so excited about the prospect of killing (for a second time) the heroes who rested in this tomb. She groaned and rubbed her temples. It had to be done. The spirits pressing against the veil and stealing the corpses of the long dead were no more the people whose bodies they inhabited than the lingering magics present in the air here were their gods. "We need whatever's in that scroll. I really hope disturbing my ancestors is worth it." She nodded to Vivian who summoned the spark to light the first sconce.

The veilfire torch sprang to life, bathing them in its eerie magical glow. Around them small specs of light fell like snowflakes, moaning as they touched the ground and rising again as animated corpses and ragged bones. A fireblast fell around them, scattering their old bones far and wide and setting the risen corpses ablaze. They made quick work of the rest of the animations and moved mechanically from one torch to another in a rhythm they'd long become so accustomed to that it no longer even seemed tedious. Light, kill, rinse, repeat.

They went around the room, lighting each of the four sconces and defeating the risen undead in turn until they were all lit. Nothing happened. Liara frowned at the scroll, still flame-licked and floating out of reach.

"We must have missed something," she said, lighting a veilfire torch from the last sconce. The group fanned out, looting the corpses and searching for clues.

"Inquisitor, back here," called Cassandra from the back of the room. She was pointing down a little corridor that looped behind the back wall. The group converged towards the little hallway. Sure enough, the last sconce was hanging solidly on the wall directly behind the stone idol. Hopefully this would be the last of it. She carried the torch over to the sconce, but she was distracted by a twinkling sound to her right. "Hold on," she said, "I think I found some runes." Holding the torch close, she squinted at the strange markings that lit the wall. The glowing marks certainly looked like runes – or at least parts of them – but the most intriguing part was the tiny, vaguely familiar script held inside the markings. The words were elven, but some dialect she struggled to pull the meaning from. "These are…. epitaphs?" But they only brought more questions. Where these people that were written those who laid to rest in this tomb?

"I'm sure we can make sense of these ruins later, my dear?" Quipped an annoyed Vivian. Liara scoffed. It was so easy for humans to make light of history when they hadn't lost so much of theirs. Void, the humans even had the gall to actually think they could write Elven history for themselves. Human scholars on Elven lore who wrote books about the savage elves, their wild nature, and their need to be cultured and subdued, heedless of the truth, oppressing her kind with convenient lies for centuries.

Liara bit her lip. Now was, perhaps, not the time for such thoughts. First, they needed to get out of here and then she could send in her people to interpret the markings. Reluctantly, she turned, holding the torch against the brazier, which lapped the magical fire greedily. A great rumble tore through the cavern, shaking the ground under their feet. Liara cast a terrified glance at her companions.

"What in the Maker's name…"

Liara hastily dropped the torch, stepping into a low crouch and creeping around the tunnel's edge, dagger drawn.

"Fuck," she breathed, right before an invisible hand clamped tight around her entire being, pulling her in a magical vice towards the evil, glimmering revenant at the center of the room and squeezed all the breath from her lungs. She landed directly in front of the undead warrior. The void inside his armor sucked in her stolen strength, compelling her essence to surrender to it in sheer terror.

"Little help, guys!"

Death hissed from the monster where a mouth should have been as it released its grip from her and swung its great sword down upon her. She was only just able to get her blades up to block the blow. The revenant's icy blade pushed her back with magical force, crushing her down slowly, hopelessly. Despair sat deep within her bones, weakening her and invading her mind with doubts. The creature before her was too large, too strong – it would consume her easily into its blackness.

And then it was gone, vanishing instantly. She could breathe. The monster before her was just another undead in armor. Liara cast a grateful glance at Cassandra for her holy might before pushing back with all her strength, wresting the revenant's sword off of her and delivering a stab through its armor. It responded with an ear-shattering shriek, only to be silenced a moment later when a firebolt crashed against its back, dropping the monster to a knee. Liara felt it focus its baleful, burning hatred on Vivian as it stabbed its sword into the ground and roared. It pulled at every corner of the room, commanding all energies towards its irresistible call, meaning to suck them all in and strike them at once. Liara supposed it might have been an excellent strategy… if most of her party were ranged. As it happened, the mass pull only served to hasten Bull's charge, bringing him flying at inhuman speeds, his one dark eye wide with terrible, violent glee.

Liara thought, then, that she had never before seen such a beautifully dangerous being. Though the timing was horribly inappropriate, a little thrill shot through her as he let loose his battle-roar. She shuddered to think of that same savage wildness bucking under her if only they'd had more time. Of course, she'd have to revisit that thought later. Maybe when they weren't trying to kill a demon-possessed corpse in the tomb of her heroes.


"I don't understand." She held the scroll aloft in trembling fingers, reading the ancient account but unable, perhaps unwilling, to grasp its meaning – and the terrible importance it held. Her throat seemed to clamp down, suddenly parched and swollen, holding her tongue prisoner to keep from saying what she was afraid this would mean.

In her tiny, battle-stained hands, she held the true account of Red Crossing and the cause of the terrible slaughter of her people that had started all of the bloodshed between humans and elves in the region. It was fitting, really, in a funny little way, that elven fingers were seeping blood into the account. Here she had believed all along, as had her people, that the humans started the war – that their savage hatred and violent nature had always been the great evil that haunted her people.

A hand flew to her open mouth. She wouldn't admit this. She couldn't face this.

And yet, in her heart, she felt the truth of it. The smallest of sobs rippled up through her chest. It defied her clenched throat and swollen tongue, slipping through her fingers and into the air around her. Her knees threatened to buckle. She fought back the urge to vomit as she staggered to the edge of the bridge.

Warm hands found her, encircling her protectively and holding her up. She didn't look; it could only be Bull.

"Inquisitor!" Cassandra cried, somewhere to her left. Unable to speak, Liara merely held the scroll out, eager to get the damning missive away from her. Swift fingers snatched it away from hers while Bull's strong hands tightened gently on her shoulders. She stared over the edge, processing oblivion, as Cassandra unfurled the delicate parchment and became witness to the most fatal of her peoples' flaw. Breath hissed from her lips. "Maker."

"What is it?" asked the deep voice of The Iron Bull directly above her, sending reverberations from his chest into her back.

"It's…" Cassandra started softly, "the true record of what happened at… Red Crossing. From the elves. It-it details… They were in love – the girl at Red Crossing and an elf were to be married in secret. But the elves struck first and killed the girl by mistake." The words weighed heavy on Liara's heart. Her stomach lurched again. There is was, the terrible truth, and all of them there to witness. She felt all eyes upon her, but she kept her gaze firmly trained on the floor below. Iron Bull's thumb stroked her arm gently. "This changes the whole history of the war. Inquisitor. The Chantry would be very interested in this."

"No." Her voice was a fragile thing, stretched too thin across the cavern, barely a whisper. "I don't… I don't know."

"We cannot keep this quiet!" Cassandra took one bold step toward her and Liara felt Bull straighten behind her, as if he made to protect her. From Cassandra. It was sweet, but unnecessary. She placed one hand gingerly over Bull's arm and turned towards the seeker.

"I know, Cass." She still felt ill. The elves were wrong. Centuries of blaming the humans, hating the humans, and feeling victimized and so much of it could have been prevented. It didn't need to continue. She thought of her former clan; the xenophobia, the mistrust, the blind fury they all had for the shemlen. Righteous indignation coursed through her as she recalled the many times Valen had voiced his disapproval of her fraternization with the humans. They were murderers, he said. Would he have shot the girl in Red Crossing, as she ran, clutching the letter from her betrothed, Liara wondered? Would Solas?

"The elves have a right to know first. They'll … never believe it if it comes from the humans." Liara shrugged Bull's big hands off of her gingerly. She could still feel the ghost of their warmth and she missed them instantly. She met Cassandra's gaze directly, praying the stubborn seeker would not fight her on the issue. The two women squared off for two solid moments before Cassandra resigned the thick scroll back to Liara, who was quick to fasten it securely to her hip.

The dark-haired seeker shuffled . "Why would the Venatori be interested in this?"

"Who cares?" Scoffed Bull, "They collect weird shit." Liara frowned at the implication that her peoples' history counted as 'weird shit', but she said nothing. The Venatori seemed to pop up wherever there might be artifacts of power, regardless of origin; it was possible they thought the knights hid something other than just this information.

"But what does Corypheus gain by keeping the dalish and the humans at odds with each other?" Cassandra pressed.

Liara couldn't help but laugh at that, her curt laugh cold and bitter. "This information wouldn't change that. Rewriting a small portion of history won't change centuries of inbred hatred. It won't change the alienages. The slavery."

"But it might be a start," came the quiet reply.

Liara wanted to say something else, but when she looked at her friend, she found that she couldn't. Something in the seeker's sad, hopeful eyes made her want to believe it could be true. She doubted if Corypheus cared one whit about the relationship between elves and humanity, personally. But then again he did fancy himself a centuries-old darkspawn demigod from ancient Tevinter – he didn't really need a reason to want everyone to suffer. So she quietly bit back her response and nodded, clapping the seeker on the shoulder as she made for the exit.


Yeah, that's it. Sorry! Figured I'd give you something at least to let you know I haven't forgotten. If you like my story so far send me a message or leave a review. Hawt sechs soon! WoooO!