A note/disclaimer: most of the elvish in this chapter was either come up with on the fly, or cobbled together as closely as I could via the wiki and a fan's interpretation of some of the words and my own making up of stuff. Some of it's canon, but the longer phrases are subject to being completely wrong. If Bioware had actually given us a full language, that could've been avoided. But oh well, I'm hardly the first fic writer out there to make up bits of language to fill the needs of a scene. Translations not given here at the top will be provided in the story. Please be patient and just go with it, if you would. 3
Also, emma abelas for this taking so long. I ran smack into a giant wall that I couldn't bash my head through for about two weeks. Thanks to cullenspoofypauldrons on tumblr, I managed to finally bust through it and get this going. So toss her a thanks in the comments if you're happy for a new chapter, because it wouldn't have happened anytime soon without her. 3
Translations:
Su an'banal i'ma: To the void with you
Ma uth'lath: My eternal love
Ma nuvenin: As you wish
da'fen: little wolf, Fen'harel's nickname for Fen'da'len, in elvish.
"Is she asleep?"
Fen'harel looks over at the Tevinter mage, nodding, "Yes. I should follow her, quickly. I am not as assured of her skill as she is."
Dorian nods, "Before you go, I want you to know I was serious about hurting her. I may not know her very well yet, but I believe in her and her cause. I also trust her. Maker knows she's shown more than enough trust in me to have earned it. You've already betrayed her once. It will take a lot for either of us to trust you. I will be watching. If she comes crying to me because of you, I will not be pleased."
Fen'harel sighs, "Dorian, she cares a great deal about you, so I will give you an insight you did not have last time. Leaving her in that future was the most difficult thing I have ever done. And I have done very many difficult things; sealing away my compatriots in the Fade, never to escape, for one. If you imagine that was an easy decision to make, let me dissuade you from that notion. It was not only emotionally excruciating, but necessitated my lengthy recovery in Uthenera. I remained there for nearly two thousand years to recover. I still have not recovered fully, thanks to Corypheus waking me by accident before it was time."
"By accident?" Dorian's confusion is evident in his pinched brow.
"Yes. I doubt he intended to wake me when he took my foci, but he did. The point is, while I greatly regret the deal I made with him for the sake of recovering a few hundred years ahead of time, I do not regret that it led me here, to her. I cherish the notion that neither of us will have to walk alone into the future we will all create. I will not leave her side. I have no reason to, now."
Dorian scoffs, "Yes, now. Why did you leave her before, if you're so intent upon staying with her this time?"
"Likely because she was mortal then. Tell me, Dorian: if you were in my place, if you fell for a mortal, would you rather give her a chance to live her life and fall for another? Or would you selfishly stay with her, knowing she would age and die; watching as you never change, her heart aching for you and for her because she could not stay? I sincerely doubt you could be that selfish. It was selfish of me to even entertain the thought of loving her, but it was far more selfless to release her when I did. I left for her own sake and mine; it was not meant to be."
Dorian laughs; a cold, biting sound that cuts, "Oh yes, it must be incredibly convenient for you now, discovering that she's immortal and you can run off with her into the Fade after all this is done. You could've made her immortal last time, you know. Why didn't you?"
Fen'harel bites back a growl, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh, "Before she gave me my essence from that red future, I did not have that power. I could barely take my true form with the power I had, let alone give the gift of immortality. He sacrificed a great deal of himself to give that to her; far more than I would have been capable of, if I wished to remain alive."
Dorian sits back, steepling his fingers in front of him, "So if you'd had the choice before, you would've done it?"
Fen'harel raises his head, nodding, "Yes, if she had desired it. It is likely that if I had recovered my foci, I would have offered her the choice. But I did not recover it. So, I had to choose another path to-"
His attention is drawn to Lavellan, whose hand has shifted from resting on her stomach to smacking his hip, fingers curling tightly around the hem of his shirt. He takes her hand in his, stroking it gently until her fingers relax.
He looks at Dorian, "I must go. If you are finished interrogating me, that is."
Dorian sighs, waving him on, "Yes, yes. Go, before she runs into some desire demon and decides you've taken entirely too long to bed her."
Fen'harel purses his lips and glares at Dorian, who seems entirely unaffected. He sighs and settles next to Lavellan, casting his sleeping spell over himself, his hand clasped to hers to make joining her simpler.
The scene that unfolds before him as he enters the realm he created is quiet, a corner of the Fade he is very familiar with. He looks around, leaning gently on his staff as he takes it all in. He sends his magic out, searching for his vhenan'ara's path, sensing that she is not long gone from this place. He finds her footsteps in the mud, the taste of her magic leaving a bright trail for him to follow. He smiles and calls his wolf out, darting forward to catch up with her as quickly as he can.
He brushes past a spirit of purpose, letting his aura reach out in greeting and feeling it respond in kind as he passes. He presses on, catching her scent more strongly now, alerting him that he is nearing her current location. He slows his pace when he finally catches sight of her ahead, slightly stunned as he sees the form she has taken. She is a large white wolf, nearly exactly as he once appeared, before his actions changed his form permanently. The only difference he can see from his current distance is that her paws and the tip of her tail bleed into black at the ends. Her tail is currently wagging, largely due to the young man he recognizes from her memories as Cole, who is curiously patting her head.
She must sense him, as she turns to look behind her, eyes locking with his first pair as her mouth opens wide in a panting grin. As he nears her, he notices she is as tall as he is, something he is unused to. He likes it. It looks good on her. He nuzzles her gently in greeting, giving a contented sigh as she returns it eagerly, then turns and nods at Cole, shaking the wolf form from her. He follows her, settling his hand on her lower back softly.
She is the first to speak, "Hello, Cole."
Cole looks at her, the curiosity on his face shining through the mop of hair half covering his eyes. His customary hat is hanging on his back by a thin leather strap around his neck. His eyes flick between Lavellan and Fen'harel, taking the measure of both of them.
"You know me. Not me, another me, a me you've met, a me that is me but not me. You know my name, you know my story you- You know he comes for you. You puzzled the pieces, know the game, seek to quench the flame. You want to help... and you know how."
Fen'harel looks to Lavellan. She is more familiar with Cole, and he seems to be concentrating on her, so he lets her take the lead.
She smiles, "Yes, Cole. I was sent back, but it all has yet to happen in this time. I do want to help, to fix it all, to make it better. Will you help us? I can't do it without you."
Cole narrows his eyes, looking first at her, then at the ground, apparently pondering her words.
She holds her hand out to get his attention, "Here, let me introduce someone else who knows. His name is Fen'harel, but most of the people who are helping call him Solas. That's what we'd prefer you call him, if that's alright."
Cole sighs, his tone impatient, "I know who he is. We all do. You told him? No, he told him. But you held him, holding, caressing, kissing, loving. You love him. You see who he is and you love him still. But you don't trust him..." he pauses, tilting his head as if listening, "He left you before. Angry, tired, hurting; you searched until you broke, and then you saw. You knew. You knew you knew all along, somehow. He burned you, but the knowing made the burns hurt less."
She nods, "Yes, it did. Keep listening, Cole. We sought you out early for a reason."
Cole takes a step closer, reaching out cautiously, letting his hand rest on her shoulder. Surprise shines on his face as he inhales sharply, "You want to hide the truth to save them. To keep the future from changing. You want to help, want to make it work, desperation, determination, driven, driving you to the precipice. You keep them in the dark so they can see the light. It hurts. It all hurts. Too much, too bright, too much blood, too much death if you break the pieces apart. I... see."
She purses her lips and swallows, nodding, "Do you understand why they can't know, though? It's not because I want to lie to them."
Cole shakes his head, interrupting as he lets his hand fall to his side, "No, you want to save them, all of them. It's too much to keep to yourself. But you have to. I understand. I want to help."
She smiles and rests her own hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently, "Thank you, Cole. For understanding, and for still wanting to help."
He picks at his hand wraps, his head lowered, "Understanding makes me want to help more. To help you. To help them. I will meet you there. Should I come now? Or should I wait?"
Fen'harel intercedes, "You should keep your original plan, Cole. Appearing any earlier than you normally would might cause complications. It is best to avoid even the possibility that any of us could alter the course of events, until the very end."
Cole nods, "Then I will wait. I'll be there when he comes, but you have to go now, time won't wait."
Lavellan nods, letting her hand return to her side, "You're right. We'll see you soon, Cole."
At this, Cole disappears, tendrils of smoke curling in his wake. Lavellan chuckles, shaking her head. Fen'harel joins her.
"Well, we'd best go. I'll see you on the other side, dread wolf," she winks, then forces herself awake.
He smiles and looks around for a moment, sighing wistfully before he follows.
~O~O~O~O~O~O~
Coming to is much gentler this time around, compared to her recent experiences. Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, she rubs her eyes and slowly sits up, lowering her hands to her lap to blink blearily at her surroundings.
"Well hello deary. Have a good Fade visit?" Dorian sounds both amused and cautiously curious as he greets her.
She looks over at him, smiling and nodding, "Yes, actually. We found Cole. He understands and is willing to help, as well as keep our secret."
Dorian inclines his head in careful approval, "Well that is good news then, yes? Our little spirit friend won't be a giant liability anymore. Hopefully."
She chuckles, "Yes, hopefully. He seemed to get the point, though it is sometimes hard to tell with him. But in this case, I think we're good to go."
Fen'harel stirs beside her, his knee bending and knocking gently into hers. She turns with a bemused smile to peer down at him, leaning on her straightened arm to stretch out her other hand and tenderly stroke his cheek as he begins to wake.
"You are incredibly generous, you know," Dorian intones softly, "to forgive him as you have. I'm not sure I could have done the same in your position. He doesn't deserve it."
She glances at him, a disapproving glare shifting to understanding as her eyes return to Fen'harel's face.
"I love him. He will either earn my trust and yours, or he will prove you correct. Either way, I would rather love him while I can, and give him the chance to show himself worthy."
Dorian sighs, lifting the book he'd abandoned in his lap, his eyes lowering to the pages as he waits for Fen'harel to properly wake, apparently dropping the subject for the moment.
Lavellan smiles broadly as she watches Fen'harel's eyes slide open, blinking slowly; unfocused for an instant before they drift over her face.
He smiles sleepily, "Aneth ara, ma uth'lath. Em then'eth in na'latha; em elgar'nuvenin sulena vir'nehn."
She curls her fingers in his hair as the voices from the Well provide their simultaneous translation: 'My safe place, my eternal love. I wake safely in your love; my spirit wants to sing its joy.'
She grins and leans down, pressing a kiss to his lips and nuzzling his nose with hers, giggling.
"Ar lath ma, vhenan. But perhaps we should speak the common tongue, considering our present company," she nods her head at Dorian's seated form with an amused smirk tugging the corner of her mouth up.
He blinks, turning his head to see who she indicated, a slight blush gracing his ear tips, "Oh. Apologies, Dorian. The Fade was clinging to my mind more strongly than I realized."
Dorian shrugs, not bothering to lower his obviously fascinating book, "Oh, don't mind me, I'm just reading, over here... in my house. With two sickeningly sweet elves canoodling on my floor."
As he finishes his diatribe, he glowers down at them both over the top of his book, shaking his head.
Lavellan blushes, "Sorry, Dorian. Thank you for watching over us. It is appreciated."
Dorian raises one hand to wave lackadaisically at them both, "It was no trouble, dear."
He stands abruptly, setting his book aside, "Now then, I assume you'll want me there for closing the Breach? You'll need all the power you can get, I'll wager."
She nods and hefts herself up, standing and offering her hand to Fen'harel, "Yes, your presence would be a great asset, if you are willing."
Dorian scoffs, "Of course I'm willing. I can't let you take all the credit, after all."
He winks and grins, waiting as Fen'harel stands with Lavellan's help, then moves to the door, "Shall we proceed?"
Lavellan looks at Fen'harel, "We should probably get you to your house in wolf form to avoid Leliana's eyes. I can always claim I left the spirit in your care, as you're the resident Fade expert."
Fen'harel nods, "That is likely wise."
Dorian quirks his head to the side, "Spirit? Is that what you're claiming the wolf is? How very clever. It's a good cover, really."
Lavellan smiles, "We thought so too. It's the only thing that makes sense. He's a spirit of peace that was drawn to our cause and took the form of a wolf to aide us. It is fitting, considering elvhen history is riddled with tales of warriors with wolf companions."
Surprise lights on Dorian's face, "Fitting indeed! Quite convenient for your little ruse."
Fen'harel gives a small bow toward Dorian, "Thank you for your help, Dorian. I will see you again in a moment."
He falls forward, landing on his paws, looking up at Lavellan expectantly.
She nods, taking a breath as she moves through the door after Dorian opens it.
Dorian follows them closely over to Fen'harel's house and stations himself just to the side of the door, crossing his arms, "I'll wait here, but don't take too long in there. The hole in the sky isn't going to wait much longer."
"Of course. We'll be right out," she responds, smiling.
She opens the door, letting Fen'harel through and closing it behind them, casting her eyes about the room to make sure the shutters are closed. Before she can turn to let him know that it's safe, she feels his arms encircling her from behind. She jumps a little in surprise, then chuckles at herself, letting her head fall back to his shoulder and planting a kiss on his jaw. Her arms hug his to her body snugly, and she closes her eyes, nuzzling into his neck with a sigh. She needs this moment of peace more than she'd realized. He seems to understand this, his silence as he simply holds her a comfortable one.
But it cannot last. She soon straightens and turns in his arms, hands curling behind his neck to pull him gently down for a kiss, fingers carding into his hair as she steals a few more precious seconds alone with him before facing the storm.
It is not enough.
It will never be enough.
She breaks the kiss gently, pressing her forehead to his and taking a deep breath, slowly letting it out and leaning back, nodding resolutely. She is ready.
He steals one last chaste kiss from her, hand cupping her cheek as he smiles at her, love shining in his eyes. His hand slides down to hers, taking it and pulling her slowly to the door, tugging it open and leading the way outside.
It is time.
Dorian nods at her, "You two lovebirds ready?"
She gives her own nod, "Yes. Let's get this done before I change my mind."
Dorian chuckles, "Change your mind? Sadly, I don't think you have that option, my dear. Terrible thing, not having options. Makes one feel rather confined. I detest it, personally."
She smirks, "I don't blame you. Let's go rouse the troops."
They make their way to the Chantry, heading to the war room swiftly. Their path is set, no turning back now.
A few sideways glances and stray comments result from Fen'harel growing his hair out, but once it is explained that he'd used magic to grow it out at her request, that seems to end the speculation. Cullen has been true to his word, promptly informing Lavellan's advisors about the spirit wolf; an informal greeting time is set for after the sealing of the Breach to meet the 'spirit'.
With these formalities out of the way, Lavellan stabs a dagger through Haven's location on the war map, announcing her readiness to commence the assault on the Breach.
She gathers the needed personnel and notifies Fiona, setting off the moment she calls forth her selections. The afternoon sun wanes low in the sky, indicating an early evening departure. Right on time.
As they arrive, Lavellan looks up at the swirling green nightmare in the sky with resolute determination. At least this time, she knows it will work. Fiona has chosen the same small army of mages she did last time, and Dorian, Vivienne, and Fen'harel are all in attendance to lend their power to the cause.
She looks behind her, checking that everyone is ready to proceed. Satisfied, she turns, lifting her marked hand to the rift and channeling her mana into the anchor, which sputters petulantly as Fen'harel shouts instructions to Fiona's mages. The first cry of effort sounds behind her, more following on swift wings as she feels immense power pour through her; an overabundance of mana that floods her senses, bringing her night in Arlathan sharply to mind. She pushes the memory away, concentrating on her task. The anchor is finally cooperating, spewing a steady stream of energy at the rift above her, and she can feel the tear giving way gradually, just as before.
Suddenly, a massive surge of energy pulses through her, and she recognizes the magic easily. Fen'harel has brought his mana to bear. The beam emitting from her hand strengthens, overpowering the rift with ease.
The shockwave of the rift closing and mending the Breach knocks them all back, suffering them to clumsily recover; dazed but unharmed. Lavellan is kneeling, heart beating a rapid tempo inside her chest. She looks up, seeing the scar that will always remain in the sky, grinning in victory.
Cassandra grips her shoulder, her expression stunned but jubilant, "You did it!"
Lavellan stands and turns her grin on Cassandra, nodding in agreement, "It's finally done," she looks to the rest of the company gathered, raising her voice, "The Breach is sealed!"
Cheers and shouts of joy meet her proclamation, all gathered raising their fists in glee.
Lavellan looks to Fen'harel, who is quietly leaning against his staff, his smile bright and pride in his eyes.
The small mob begins to slowly disperse, starting the short trek back to Haven. Finally, all that are left behind are Dorian, Lavellan, and Fen'harel.
Dorian is the first to speak, "So, what now, Fen'da'len?"
She blinks in surprise, "You said my name correctly. Most shemlen can't pronounce elvhen names to save their lives."
Dorian's smile is smug as he responds, "Well I'm hardly 'most shemlen,' am I? In any case, you didn't answer my question. What comes now?"
She sighs, "Corypheus. He attacks Haven with an army of templars that have been force-fed red lyrium. Remember the monstrosity that tried to cleave my head off in that horrible future?" she waits for his nod before continuing, "There will be quite a few of them in that army. We've a few hours to spare, but it's not much of a reprieve. Many will die tonight."
Dorian's jaw clenches and relaxes, his expression grim, "Well that's a lovely thought. I suppose I should pack lightly in preparation, then."
She nods, "Yes, I will be doing the same. My robe has many pockets, all of them will be filled. Bringing a pack would be too conspicuous, since I don't normally wear one. Keep that in mind for yourself."
"Indeed I will, that's a good point. I'll pack some extra lyrium potions as well. Any instructions besides that?"
Lavellan chews her lip in thought, glancing at Fen'harel for but a moment before replying, "When I tell you to run, do it. Don't look back, don't wait. Just run to the Chantry and flee with the others," she gives Fen'harel a hard look, "this goes for both of you."
Fen'harel gives a short, terse nod.
Dorian creases his eyebrows, "What of you? I imagine you have some sort of plan for escape?"
She sighs, "There's a tunnel under Haven that leads to the forest behind the mountain. Don't worry about me, I'll make it to where you will be camped."
Fen'harel smirks, "With my guidance, yes, you will."
She raises an eyebrow, "That was you? I thought it might have been. Nobody else could influence wolves like you can."
He nods, "Yes, but I will be joining them this time. I will not wait for you to freeze in that valley."
She chuckles, "My toes and fingers thank you. But I will be more prepared this time, at least. Hopefully I can mitigate some of the cold better than I did before."
The sun beginning to dip below the mountains catches her attention, "Well, we should get back to Haven. We only have a couple of hours before the attack; I'd like to enjoy them."
Dorian gives a soft smile, "Good plan. I have a bottle of Vint-1 calling my name."
She laughs, "Now don't down the whole thing in one go, Dorian. I need you conscious for this, you know."
Dorian shakes his head with a roguish grin, "My dear, I will not only be conscious, but coherent. Consider yourself honored; it is a luxury I grace very few people with."
She chuckles and sighs, heading up the ramp with Fen'harel at her side, Dorian heading up their small group.
Their walk back to Haven is blissfully quiet; the silence only interrupted by the shuffling of Dorian's boots and the occasional twittering of songbirds nestled within the trees they pass. Lavellan and Fen'harel walk hand in hand, mutual enjoyment of the calm before the storm passing between them, unspoken.
Her thoughts turn to the quiet space in her mind where Fen'harel's essence had once settled, missing his presence there. While she is glad not to be in danger anymore, the feeling of emptiness - made worse by her memory of Arlathan's magic - is a persistent, niggling influence on her mind.
For now, it matters little. Much larger game is headed to her doorstep, and she brushes the concerns away before they can take root too deeply. The voices from the Well seem to approve of this move.
Almost as if he's heard them in her head, Fen'harel speaks up, "Do the voices of the Vir'abelasan still remain, despite your displacement in time?"
She frowns slightly, nodding, "Yes, though I believe my connection to Mythal might have been severed. If so, I am not sure if that was due to you taking her essence, or to the journey back. But the voices do still speak, imparting wisdom, translations, and occasionally objecting to my more rash actions."
He chuckles, "I imagine they had quite a lot to say when you suddenly became my vessel. Ancient powers do not generally appreciate sharing hosts."
She shakes her head, "Actually, they didn't seem to mind that. They objected more when I ran off hunting on my own. The loudest objection came from me turning into your wolf. Half of the struggle was fighting them back."
He purses his lips in a disapproving look, "I can believe it. You are fortunate that you relented when you did. That kind of power is not meant for anyone who is not born with it."
"Not surprising," she shrugs.
He stops, tugging her gently to a halt as well as he turns to her, "I must ask, if I had not accepted your proposal, what would you have done?"
She purses her lips, brows drawn together in a frown as she considers his question, "I... don't know. It was a reckless gambit to begin with, one I didn't exactly think through. It's likely I would've persisted, though for how much longer, I couldn't say."
His brows raise in alarm, "Vhenan, you were near death when you finally relented. If you had persisted, I am unsure if I could have brought you back. It is doubtful."
She smirks, "Then it is good you agreed when you did, is it not?"
"Out of desperation, to keep you alive, yes. That is not the way to win arguments and live a long life, ma sa'lath. What if you had died? This world needs you as much as I do."
She smiles, bringing their joined hands up to brush her lips over his knuckles, "You worry too much, ma nehn. I am here, alive and well, no harm done. I will do what must be done, and we will both move forward with our long lives after it is finished. Is that not enough to satisfy you?"
He regards her carefully, eyes tightened, brow pinched, jaw working agitatedly. He takes a step towards her and lifts his free hand to her cheek, staring into her eyes as if he could seek out the depths of her soul through them, and root out what she is thinking. His face crumples into anguished resignation as he leans forward and rests his brow, gently but firmly, against hers.
"There are moments, such as these, when you truly frighten me, ma uth'lath. I wonder at the lengths you will go to see this mission of ours through, and it shakes me to the core," he leans back to look at her, seemingly searching for something in her features.
She lifts her hand to encircle his wrist, his still cupping her cheek as his thumb strokes feather-soft trails just beneath her eye. She wonders what he is searching for; he doesn't seem to be finding it.
"If your core is shaken, vhenan, then perhaps it needs more steadfast holdings. I will do what is necessary, no more, no less. I did not die last time, and I have no intentions of changing that fate," her hand slides up to cover his, pressing it to her face, "I have more reason than ever, now, to live."
At last, his search appears over. His very soul seems to relax; his aura, tight and tangled moments before, calms and returns to the deep pool of certainty she is accustomed to. She smiles and presses her lips to his gently, lingering for but a moment before she pulls away. She takes his hand from her face and squeezes it gently, brushing her lips over his knuckles once more before lowering their joined hands between them, never ceasing her hold on him. She turns to their path, noting that Dorian has long outstripped them, leaving them to their momentary diversions in favor of his small, warm house and alcohol-fueled preparations.
Fen'harel keeps pace with her easily, regardless of her now quickened steps. There is precious little time to prepare, and she wants to be as ready as possible. The town smithy comes into view, Blackwall standing beside the door as he quietly gazes up at the tear where the breach had swirled its angry storm in the sky mere minutes before. So consumed is he by the sight that he doesn't notice them pass; something she is grateful for. Not that she doesn't care for his company, but she is in a hurry. There will be time for chatting once they reach Tarasyl'an Te'las.
Their feet carry them past Bull and Krem, then through the town gates swiftly, Lavellan leading the charge to her house. She swings the door open and closes it as soon as Fen'harel is through it, only now releasing his hand in favor of filling them with various small items and potions as she carefully tucks them away in her robes. She looks to him and sighs as she finishes.
"That's as much as I can carry without a pack. Or, without being too obvious, I suppose," she smirks as she pats her various pockets, some of which clink and jingle with her jostling.
He nods, shrugging his pack off and slinging it onto her bed, "I can carry what you cannot, then. Hand me what you need."
Her brow narrows as she regards him from next to her supply cache by the door, "But don't you have things of your own to bring with you? You need room for your own belongings and potions, if I'm not mistaken."
She can hear his smile in his voice, "No, little wolf. How many things do you imagine I carried with me before I came to the Inquisition? I woke with very little aside from my foci, and that was already in Corypheus' grasp at the time. What I have now is only what I have managed to salvage along the way; which, all told, is very little. I have more than enough room for a few items, and plenty of strength to carry them for you. Your burdens are now mine."
She snorts as she turns and squats next to the potion crate to hide her expression, fingers pausing on the worn edge of the crate, "I'm not sure how I feel about burdening the god of rebellion."
Suddenly he's beside her, and she feels the weight of the fold he's manipulated in the veil to step through the Fade to her side. He grasps her chin firmly, urging her to look at him with his touch, his eyes boring into her with ardent determination.
"Fen'da'len, look at me, please."
When she complies, he releases her chin to cup her cheek, "No weight is heavier than knowing you could be stolen from me at any moment. If it means I may keep you here, alive, I will gladly carry you and the world on my shoulders. No burden is too great for your presence at my side, ma uth'lath."
Her heart soars to hear these words, but to see them reflected truthfully in his eyes is what has her crashing her lips to his, arms flung around his neck as she brazenly takes what she wishes from his mouth. She pours her love and passion into her magic, reaching out to sift through and surround him with it, the sudden onslaught making him gasp with the power of it. She wastes no time in deepening the kiss with the opportunity he's so graciously provided, only marginally slaking her thirst for him in this moment with her tongue tangling against his in a ravenous dance of hunger.
His arms encircle her, tightly pulling her to him as they both slide to their knees to leave no space between them, shutting out the world in preference of this shared moment of closeness and solace - the still center of the maelstrom. They cling to each other, each selfish grasp and sigh signaling their desperation for the moment to go on, unending.
But it must end.
A tear slides down her cheek as the kiss slowly finishes. He presses his brow to hers as they catch their breaths, his eyes closed tightly as he reins himself in. He lifts his lips to her brow, lingering there for several seconds, then gently leaning back to look at her with a lovingly fond smile.
"It seems I do not need to teach you that magic after all, little wolf. You have learned it all on your own. You continue to surprise me," he strokes his thumb over her cheek, drying the path of her tear.
She gives a somewhat choked laugh, her voice small and strained, "I had a good teacher."
His smile broadens, "And you always will, ma vhenan. I will teach you everything I know that is safe for you to cast. You will never want for any magic, ancient or modern."
At this, her gaze falls, knowing that if this were to really be true, it would mean restoring the magic that existed in ancient times, before he made the veil. She is still unsure what to think about this possible future. Trying to hide her conflicted expression, she nuzzles into his throat, leaving a kiss on the dip between his collarbones. "Ma serannas, ma uth'lath. I shall endeavor to be a good student."
He leans back and cups her chin in his hand, tilting her head up gently to bring her gaze to his, "Something troubles you, little wolf. Do not think I did not notice. What is it?"
A soft blush shades the tips of her ears at being caught, though her face betrays no shame, "My troubles can wait, dread wolf. Corypheus and his army will not."
Annoyance graces his lips as they draw into a thin line, but he nods sharply, returning his hand to her side, "After, then. I will not forget; I will have your answer on the way to Tarasyl'an Te'las. Count on it."
A small smirk forms on her face, "It is yours, isn't it?"
He raises an eyebrow in confusion, "What is?"
The smirk widens into a small grin, "Tarasyl'an Te'las."
Now both brows raise in surprise, "And what path did you follow to reach this conclusion? Neither I, nor my red lyrium self told you anything of the sort."
She chuckles, "The very name of it. 'The place where the sky was held back'. An apt name for the place the veil was created, wouldn't you say? You knew where it was, and freely offered it; as if you owned it. All of that, combined with your willingness to leave what ignorant minds might label as graffiti on the walls of such an ancient place is fairly obvious evidence, vhenan. Not to mention that the anchor is never more calm than when I am there. Your magic has settled deeply into the foundations of that fortress. I realized this not long after I found out who you are."
"That," he pauses, composing himself, "is quite an astute set of observations, little wolf. If you continue in such a fashion, I will soon have very few secrets left indeed."
She gives a sardonic huff of a laugh, "I would say 'good', but that will never be the case. You have lived far too long and have too much history for me to ever learn all of your secrets, ma uth'lath. Even if I now have the time to learn them, you would not tell them to me. It is not in your nature. I will only learn that which I deduce on my own, no doubt."
He seems pained at her words, almost offended, "And this nature you believe I possess, is it drawn from your personal experience with me, or from what your keeper taught you to believe?"
"Both," she answers without hesitation, "Though I freely admit you have been slightly more open today than ever before, there is every possibility that it is as much of an affectation as Solas was. Especially given what happened before."
She feels his fingers tighten into the fabric of her robe at her sides. She sees his jaw tightening as his eyes close, his nose flaring with a breath slowly and deeply inhaled, then exhaled. As his eyes open, they are steely and as cold as his iciest spell, "You imagine that I would declare undying love and allegiance to you, then lie to you once more, knowing that you hold my heart and my greatest secret in your hands? That you could easily crush one and spill the other, should you decide to do so? What kind of fool do you take me for, little wolf?"
She shakes her head, "Not a fool, Fen'harel. Never a fool. But burns do not heal easily, even with the strongest of magics; even with the strongest of wills. The kind of fire that sears flesh from bone on contact, the kind of fire that blackens the heart and soul with the very whisper of it? That is the fire you burned me with. It will take time to heal - time for me to trust. I have forgiven, but not forgotten. In time, I may do both. But that time is not now."
He sinks back on his heels, releasing his grip on her robe to lay his hands on his lap, hers mirroring his as she retreats in kind. He is crestfallen, avoiding her eyes as he asks, "If that is how you feel, should I then expect not to join you on the field of battle? Surely you would not take along someone you cannot trust at your back."
Her eyes widen and her brow furrows as she hears this. She reaches out to cradle his jaw in her palm, guiding him to meet her eyes with his. He stubbornly refuses, the hurt in his eyes painfully evident.
"Su an'banal i'ma, Fen'harel. Look at me!"
He does, grudgingly, using annoyance to mask his pain to a point.
"I will trust you at my back because it is one of the many ways that you can prove yourself worthy of trust. I will trust you at my back because I would never leave such a strong fighter at base when there are enemies bracing to storm my very doorstep. I will trust you at my back because I still love you with everything that I am, no matter how badly I am burned. I will trust you at my back on a battlefield because you have never given me reason not to trust you there. It is elsewhere that you do not have my trust, vhenan. I am filled with sorrow that this is the case, but it is what it is. For now." She lowers her hand to take his gently, grasping it in both her hands and tracing soft circles on his skin.
His voice is full of regret as he quietly replies, "Na har'din banalas'ma, ma uth'lath."
The voices of the Well translate for her, 'Your honesty shames me, my eternal love.'
He continues, "I will do whatever possible to earn back what I have destroyed, and to soothe your burns as best I can. If you wish anything from me, I will do everything in my power to give it to you."
A fragile smile pulls at her lips. She tilts her head slightly as she responds, "At the moment, I only wish for you to keep your oath to me, and to yourself. That alone will go a long way in repairing the charred landscape between us. The truth will free us both to love and trust each other as we each deserve. It... won't be an easy path to tread, but it is the most direct route to our desired destination."
He gives a slow nod in place of a bow, "Ma nuvenin, da'fen."
