The four hurried down the corridor, led by both Mirana's light and the seemingly endless path of flickering torches. They were beginning to grow unsure of Illivere's navigating skills when they suddenly came upon a large iron door so dark it was nearly indistinguishable from the wet stone surrounding it. His nimble fingers made impressively quick work on the lock before he entered the compound as unobtrusively as if he had just used a key. Filing silently behind their guide, they slunk under large archways bearing flags with the symbol of the Qun, around massive sets of armor with holes specially befit for horns, and up many sets of spiraling staircases to a destination Mirana only hoped contained her daughter.
It was oddly quiet; they had faced no quarrel with any Qunari forces this far, despite the telling prattle of Cullen's armor reverberating up and down the corridor. Mirana's hands twitched over her daggers, wary to use them yet fearful she might have to unsheathe them at a moment's notice. She much preferred archery to direct combat; the killing was less personal that way. She didn't much care for looking a creature in the eye as she slit its throat, and the feeling of another's blood between her fingers always made them itch for a wash.
"Are you sure you know where we're going?" she finally whispered to her friend, head twisting around as if the sudden break in silence would bring on an onslaught. "You would think there would be more guarding Mala'nan, if we were getting close."
Illivere produced a suave smirk, pretending to be offended by her lack of confidence. "Have a little faith in your old friend; if I can come back from the dead, just imagine what other incredible feats I'm capable of." As she took a breath in preparation to respond, he pressed a finger to his wide mouth and gestured down the hallway adjacent to them where the sound of voices and clinking metal had begun to grow. He bade them to press themselves up against the wall while he poked his head around the corner to inspect how large this incoming patrol was. Mirana watched the black curls at the nape of his neck kink as he had to maneuver himself underneath the arm of a statue to properly assess the ranking and weapon class of each opponent. She imagined his shrewd eyes narrowing as he cocked his head, as perceptive as the ravens he used to sing about.
Finally, he ducked back around the corner to debrief the group with an abnormally serious expression. He opened his mouth as if to speak before shutting it and shaking his head as if utterly overwhelmed.
"Well, spit it out," Cullen barked impatiently.
"Frankly, there's a lot. An awful lot. Too many for the four of us to handle, especially now that Mirana is essentially handicapped," he joked weakly, gesturing to the knives at her side which, accumulatively, had seen about as much blood as a kitchenmaid's butter knife.
Cullen raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? It didn't sound like that many—"
Mirana interrupted with a growl, "I can wield these just fine, thanks."
Illivere rolled his eyes, hands anxiously tapping at his own weapons. "Yeah and if that fails I know we can rely on you to blow them straight through the roof, right? No, bad idea. If you want to get your daughter back, the word is inconspicuous here, okay? If they're keeping her where I think they are, just continue as we were until you reach a massive door. Make sure not to go through that door—there's a dragon, a lot of explosives, a real mess." He waved his hand dismissively as Cullen and Mirana exchanged bemused glances. "There's a little passage to the left of that door and some stairs. I think she'll be in the room up there. Knowing the Viddasala, it'll be heavily guarded with shit that disarms magic—that's mainly a problem for you though, papa elf." He threw a wink at Solas to which the mage grunted something under his breath that made Cullen snort with laughter.
"And what of you?" Mirana interjected, hasty to get a move on.
Illivere shrugged, a dashingly humorous glint in his eye. "This tasty chunk of meat will be tonight's distraction." Before she could object, he added, "Don't worry, lethalan, they won't hurt me. But I do recommend you hurry, because they definitely won't object to hurting you." He sent another look at the approaching Qunari before nudging them to move forward. "Go, I'll keep them occupied for as long as I can."
Mirana pressed him into a brief yet meaningful hug, breathing in his scent that, despite being altered by his new life in the Qun, still contained the tiniest hint of cedar and night air from many years sleeping out under the stars. "I hope one day you'll be able to meet her," she said as she pulled back, face glowing with a tender smile.
For a moment, his composure faltered and something nearly verging on regret flashed over his countenance, but like a bird over the sun, the shadow passed and he was grinning once more. "But of course, for that to happen, you'll have to save her first." He nudged her more firmly this time. "Go on, then!"
Solas was already charging down the corridor, having grown tired of this empty conversation. Not even stopping to see if Mirana and Cullen were following him, he followed Illivere's directions and continued down the hall, the light from the fading day casting bright triangles on the floor. He glanced out a window at the sea of fighting below, the armies no bigger than mites to the eyes of a god. How many would never see the sun again? How many would die for his daughter? His long fingers trailed along the stone wall, felt the weaker bits come loose and crumple to dust underneath his touch, then wiped the residue on his robes and forced his attention forwards. By the time he reached the doors that stretched to at least three times his height, Mirana and Cullen were at his heels.
"So, if your friend was telling the truth, there's a dragon behind this door?" Cullen inquired, his scrutiny obvious. "That would be an important thing to check on, once this business is taken care of."
"Well if you wish to face it while we rescue the Inquisitor's daughter, please, by all means." Solas remarked snidely before moving around him to search for the passageway. Mirana raised an eyebrow at him, to which he only offered a sad smile. Who was he to put any claim to her parentage? The words "my daughter" would feel strange coming out of his mouth, like a candy so sweet on the tongue that it was sickening.
He watched her expression suddenly wrench with agony as another tremor of the Anchor's power coursed through her. The orange glow of the sunset was brightened with an abrupt green as Mirana cried out in pain. She had to lean against the door to keep from collapsing to her knees, which shook beneath her so badly that Cullen pressed a hand to her back in support. A cold sweat had broken out on her face as she fought to keep from screaming, another spasm causing her spine to arch before she slammed her forehead to the wood, the bang resounding as if it were a knock. Cullen yanked her back into him, hugging her writhing body while the back of her head thrashed against his chest. He felt utterly powerless, hand clasped to his leader's mouth, muffled shrieks of pain escaping while the light burned ever brighter in front of them, threatening to off them both and there was not a single thing he could do.
Solas, fortunately, was able to pause the effects—at least for a little while. To witness the woman he had loved for so long be reduced to this, as a result of him no less, was heart-breaking. He pressed his hand to hers and urged the magic ripping away at her bones to quiet and the tears bloodying her skin to sew shut. Almost immediately, the glow dimmed and she regained control over her body, the hurt dissipating from her eyes. Cullen cautiously removed his hand from her mouth, sensing her improvement but still feeling her lack in stability as she leaned against him. She was watching Solas intently, lungs heaving as he dropped her hand and backed away. A realization dawned upon her then, as she drank in the grim expression haunting his thin face.
"You knew all along that it would kill me, didn't you?"
Solas couldn't help but smile bitterly; his Inquisitor was oftentimes too intelligent for her own good, often asking questions when ignorance would be much easier. He knew better than to lie or avoid an answer, so he settled for a curt truth. "Yes."
Her eyes closed. Cullen felt her shudder and instinctively tightened his hold. Without speaking, her response was clear; it hung in the air like fog.
And you still left.
The three stood there, staring at each other while the invisible, silent haze gathered around them. Mirana let it build until it began to suffocate her, chest aching as she gentled pushed herself out of Cullen's grasp. She could feel his gaze on the back of her head, likely shocked and scared for her; he was probably reaching out lest her screaming nerves fire out of control once more. But strangely, she felt more in control than she had for a long time. She wiped away the wetness under her nose and shoved past Solas with stinging eyes.
"I can save you, Mirana." Solas spoke with his head hung, not turning around to address her because it was the coward's way. "If you allow me."
She didn't stop moving, her voice fading up the stairwell as she ascended into Illivere's aforementioned passageway. "Save your daughter first."
Cullen watched her disappear before turning to Solas with clenched fist and jaw. He knew he didn't threaten the mage, even as he towered above him with a hand ghosting over the hilt of his sword. If he were still on lyrium, he would be able to dispel whatever magic the elf hurled at him and drive his steel through him as he had yearned to for longer than he felt comfortable admitting. He thought that he would elicit a slightly amused look of challenge, but instead he was met with an expression more pained than he had believed the stony-faced elf capable. This caused him to falter momentarily in confusion, but his voice remained level and gravelly with menace. "You will save her life, and then you will choose: stay with Mirana and your daughter or leave and never allow her to find you again."
"Your feelings for her embolden you, Commander."
"You don't frighten me."
Solas lips cracked into a wry smile. "That's because I am not trying to."
Their attention was suddenly drawn from one another to the sound of Mirana's scream as it drifted down the stairs she had ascended. Cullen was the first to start running, taking the steps two at a time with his blade bared in preparation. He reached the top of the spiral and burst through a door into a massive room that was completely empty save for a large stone pedestal, upon which sat a tiny figure drooping with chains.
His sword clattered to the ground.
The sound of his footsteps bounced back and forth between the wide stone pillars that lined the walkway, the echo mingling eerily with Mirana's crying and the painful wheezing of Mala'nan. She had fallen to her knees in front of the pedestal and, unable to bear the sight of her daughter's torture any longer, had hidden her face in her hands. Cullen nearly collapsed at her side when he caught a glimpse of the blue glowing within the heavy shackles bounding the child's wrists, feet, and neck. Lyrium-imbued, he knew too well, to stifle any magic and cause the unfortunate mage terrible pain. Made for victims much older and of an entirely different, larger race, they had been tightened accordingly and the bloody result was seen dripping down the chains. A hideous mask, like a toy version of those they used to cover the faces of their own saarebas, obscured her face. As gingerly as he could, he removed the dreadful thing and flung it to the side, tearful eyes scanning her.
Her tiny eyelids didn't flutter, didn't greet him with the lovely green irises of her mother. She only shuddered, too fatigued to even open her eyes. He wiped away the blood that had dried above her upper lip and on her ear lobes, fighting to keep his hands steady because how could they do this? How could they take a little girl who loved to put flowers in her hair and put her in chains? They probably felt like hot embers to her skin; lyrium in its solid state was excruciating to mages as it severed their connection to the Fade and their supply of magical energy, which was as much a part of them as their blood. She probably was crying when they put them on; the ghost of her sobs seemed to resonate in the very stone of the room, absorbed like the smell of smoke to wood.
"Mirana," he choked out, "we have to get these off of her." He started tugging at the shackle on her neck, trying to pry it apart with raw strength alone. She whimpered at his touch and he quickly backed off, terrified of hurting her even more. His eyes scanned the manacles on her hands and feet for any sort of hole that might indicate the existence of a key. While he searched, Mirana remained quiet, her stare as blank as glass. Finally, he grasped her by her arms and tried to pull her to her feet, but she remained firmly rooted. "Mirana, please, we have to try to save her," he begged, dreading that she was already too far lost in the recesses of her mind.
"They're killing her," she croaked finally, lips dry as sandpaper.
"We won't let them." He gathered her face in his hands, desperate for her to look at him, but her focus remained in some far-off place.
"They're killing her," she repeated. "She will never smile again."
He dropped to his knees in front of her, pressed his forehead to hers as he gathered her in his arms. "Look at me, Mirana," he softly goaded before becoming frantic as he felt time slipping from their fingertips and shouting, "Look at me!" She obeyed. "We can save her, we won't let them win, we won't let them have her. We will take her home and her smile will be the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. But you have to come back to me, you have to be strong for just a little longer because she needs you right now."
Her body shook as she sobbed silently, but she held his gaze. She would be strong, for her. She would rip out the heart of every Qunari in this damned fortress. She would bathe herself in blood so her daughter would not spend another moment sitting in a puddle of her own.
She allowed Cullen to help her to her feet and guide her to Mala'nan's side. "Mamae is here, ma vhenan." She pressed her lips to her little freckled nose, thinking of all the nights she had spent counting each tiny dot while she watched her sleep. Her hand brushed through the soft strands of her hair, felt the familiar shape of her head, breathed in her scent. Beneath the blood and iron, she was still there. Her soul clung stubbornly to her—Mirana could sense it within every strangled breath. "Ar lath ma," she whispered before straightening up, her voice suddenly growing cold.
"Come meet your daughter, Solas."
He had been standing silently beside the entranceway during this entire exchange, his feet unable to carry him the rest of the way. He could see the brown of his daughter's hair from where he stood, along with the blue of her chains. Surely they had not gone this far to get to him? Surely they knew the consequences of bringing harm to the child of a god? It was in this horrific disbelief that he had stared, nearly as motionless as Mirana at the sight of Mala'nan. He could feel the lyrium eating away at her mana as it scarred her flesh, could sense her uncongealed power beginning to wane. But she was his daughter, and it would take much more than this to strip an ancient elf of her birthright.
Her eyes opened as he approached, looking from Solas to Cullen to Mirana in confusion muddled by her weariness. Her cheeks were kissed by her mother, her back rubbed by Cullen, but her attentions were directed towards her father. Having never seen him in the waking world, she stared at him as if trying to figure out why she recognized him. Her dimpled fingers wiggled as if trying to reach for him, legs kicking under their restraints because she wanted him to hold her. She knew him, from sweet, whispered words in the Fade, hands pressed to hers as they sat in grass, trees dappling his patient face with shadows.
All of a sudden she began to cry, looking around herself in fright. Solas felt tears starting to well in his own eyes, his arms stretching in her direction, feeling unexpectedly empty without her nestled within them. But when a deep voice boomed from behind them, he realized why she had grown scared.
"And so, the Wolf is caught. I'm glad to finally make your acquaintance."
Mirana whirled around, her jaw dropping at the scene surrounding them. At least a hundred Qunari warriors flanked them on all sides and more continued to file out of the pillars as if they contained secret doorways on their backside. Her daggers were bared immediately as she assumed a fighting stance, the odds of her success meaningless in light of her sobbing daughter behind her. Having dropped his sword when he entered the room and ruined his shield in the cave-in, Cullen was virtually defenseless. It didn't mean he wouldn't put up the fight of his life though, stepping in front of Mirana's uncovered side as he glared at an opposing spearman.
Solas slowly turned around to face a Qunari woman adorned in an elaborate headdress with a large book strapped to her shoulder. She met his gaze evenly, chin raising in a sign of challenge. "I am the Viddasala, high priestess of the Ariqun, leader of the Ben-Hassrath—"
"I know who you are," Solas interrupted, growing impatient at the arrogance of this pretentious scheme.
"And I know who you are," she retorted. "You didn't think a being of such unbridled power could slip under the Qun's nose undetected, did you? We could not simply allow you to continue threatening the safety of our way of life. You want to bring chaos into the world and have done so with the birth of your… abomination. I'm aware of your strength, elf, and I know what sort of power feeds the bas-saarebas," she pointed to Mala'nan with her spear.
"She's just a child," Mirana yelled, "and Solas is just a mage. I realize you fear magic but this is—"
The Viddasala let out a bitter laugh. "Just a mage? Inquisitor, you have no idea who the elf in front of you is. He has lied to you for years, manipulated you into doing his bidding. Every move your Inquisition made, he had already calculated. He used you as a means to an end, and a despicable end, at that. Go on, tell her how Corypheus came into contact with the orb in the first place and why you wanted it back so badly. Tell her the real reason why you left the Inquisition," she paused, coming to a halt as she glared at him.
"Fen'harel."
The name hung in the air for far too long, Solas thought, and the silence that followed lasted even longer. He didn't dare turn around to look at Mirana, watch her frown as she started piecing it all together, every sliver of his betrayal. He was planning on telling her the truth himself once Mala'nan was safe, but his truth had been stolen from his own lips where it had sat ever since the night he took her vallaslin and left her crying his name. He promised himself he would explain everything later, when the Viddasala's head lay at his feet.
"I take it someone has been feeding you my secrets," Solas stated coolly, hiding his sudden realization with a blink. "I don't know what his name is under the Qun, but I'm sure you've appreciated a spy with such an in-depth knowledge of both your adversaries. Truthfully, I'm embarrassed I didn't see it sooner."
The Viddasala's smile was humorless. "Ashaad," she called out into the sea of Qunari soldiers that encroached upon them, "step forward and claim your credit." There was no visible movement for a while, then the line of Qunari broke and a lone elf traipsed into view.
"No!" Mirana's cry didn't appear to startle him, rather his gaze remained glued to his feet. "Illy, how could you?" When his only response was silence, she grew more desperate. "You lied to me, you lied to us all! After all those years we spent together… were those all lies too? You were always looking for something more, but this? Why?" She felt as if the world was coming down around her, landing in puddles around her shoes and splashing up at her shins, leaving her clothes heavy with saturation.
"Go on, tell her." He looked to the Viddasala for permission before addressing Mirana in a tone far too serious for the elf she had thought she'd known.
"The Qunari gave me a purpose after our clan was wiped out. They found me after I'd chickened out of ending my pathetic excuse of a life, not Ulhain's clan. I had a new home, guaranteed meals, and a cause I could fight for. I converted as soon as I could. I became Ashaad. They put me to work finding Dalish recruits, which was when I stumbled upon Ulhain and Fen'harel's agents. I learned of their plot, met their leader, and returned back to the Ben-Hassrath where I would continue to report on their activities under the guise of a double-agent. It all worked out pretty well; I gained their sympathy because of what happened to our clan, then I gained their trust because of my relationship with you.
"Of course, the plans of mass destruction couldn't have been allowed to go on so plans were made to capture the Dread Wolf and extinguish the flame of his little rebellion. There aren't that many ways to fool the god of trickery, but we knew he shared a daughter with the Inquisitor and—with the knowledge I gained from him about his network of eluvians—she was able to be taken without a hitch.
"Both you and Solas would undoubtedly come to her rescue, though I guess it was dumb luck that it would be at the same time and place. The Qun wanted you both dead, and it ended up being a two birds, one stone kind of situation. They had plans for the Exalted Council too, but this would send a more powerful message, especially if brought on a war between the Qun and whatever fragmented mess the Inquisition would be without its leader." He sent a glance at Cullen, who had grown so red in the face Illivere thought he could see the steam rising from under his coat. "Yes, I was the elf that sent your soldiers here. Congratulations on your excellent sleuthing abilities."
Mirana's shoulders slumped, her body feeling the effects of her mental anguish. "How could you?" she kept muttering. When she blinked, she swore she saw the short elf with the curly hair and brash demeanor she had grown up with. She could still hear him singing as they sat among the branches, his words lifting off into the sky as if kicked by each lazy swing of his leg. She thought that if he sang now, the music would sink to the ground and decay like leaves.
"Don't take it personally, Inquisitor; he took quite a while to completely relinquish all loyalty to you during his re-education," the Viddasala said, her tone less than reassuring.
Mirana and Illivere stared at each other, seeming to have a conversation beneath their searching eyes. When Mirana spoke finally, her voice was as hoarse as if she had been screaming at the top of her lungs. "If you want me dead, fine, kill me if you have to," she ignored the look she received from Cullen and continued, "but please, if you ever cared for me at all, spare my daughter."
"The Qun was never going to kill her, Mirana," Illivere murmured.
"No," Solas interjected angrily, blue eyes flashing from his betrayer to his dying daughter, "they mean to sever her connection to the Fade entirely, rendering her essentially a Tranquil. They fear her power and would rather see it eradicated than tamed, which was what I first suspected. They'll keep her bound in these chains the rest of her life," he spat, the energy within him itching to be released and burn everyone who stood before him to the ground.
Illivere saw Mirana looking from him to her daughter, features sharpening with each glance as if she were a blade set to stone. "You don't know his true power Mirana, he could use her as a tool to destroy the—" He was cut off as a dagger embedded itself within his eye, striking so hard that the gelatinous orb burst as the hilt collided with his eyebrow. The eye's twin met Mirana's gaze in bewilderment before the lens grew clouded and the spy crumpled to the floor, blood spilling over his face and creating a river of red in the grooves of the stone.
It all happened so fast. Mirana's dagger had been a blur, her throwing arm retracting and releasing before Cullen had the chance to shout out a warning to her. A spear was hurtling towards her back, but Cullen saw it as if it were merely inching along in the air, gliding like a swooping bird of prey. It sought blood for retribution, but Maker, he would not let it have a single drop of hers. The choice was immediately clear to him, though his body had already stepped into its path before his mind could agree.
It didn't hurt as he thought it would; rather than a harsh sting, the spearhead pierced his chest with a dull aching sensation that encompassed the entirety of his torso as it exited his back. He remembered feeling confused as Mirana began calling his name. Almost like a lover, he thought. Her hands were on his face and she was talking, but he couldn't hear anything beyond the violent throbbing in his ears. He wondered for a moment if the point had shattered his heart, but saw her and foolishly knew that it still functioned. He fought to keep his eyes open for just one more fleeting second of her visage as she cried for him. He felt a firm tugging on his stomach and looked down to see her hands attempting to remove the spear. He placed one of his own on top of hers and shook his head weakly. He smiled as she said something, enjoying the final time he would see these expressions lighting her face like the glow from a fire.
Coldness crept up upon him as her hands suddenly disappeared. He couldn't see anything from where he lay on the ground, blood forming a pool around his shivering body. Her screams made him try to get up, but he couldn't move.
"Save her! Save Mala'nan!"
He couldn't help. He couldn't save her. Rather, he would bleed out at her daughter's feet while she was dragged away. His last thought was an empty hope that someone who didn't believe in the Maker would perhaps be given an exception in death so she wouldn't have to wander the Fade all alone.