Solas watched as two brutish Qunari clamped their arms around Mirana and dragged her away from Cullen's corpse while she screamed at him to save their daughter. Surrounded by enough opponents on his own, he was unable to provide aid when it was needed, his immediate attention diverted to repelling the spears as they soared towards him. With a flash of his eyes, each clattered to the ground midflight as if an invisible shield encompassed him. He was walking straight towards the Viddasala, unhindered by projectiles or warriors who charged him and were immediately flung backwards by some unseen force. Try as they might, the Dread Wolf was on the hunt, and he always caught his prey.

"Stand down, mage—we can still hurt your daughter," she warned, though her muscles were bunched with the urge to flee.

Solas merely smirked, not even glancing over his shoulder as the Qunari that had rounded upon Mala'nan was turned to stone, large hand frozen in marble inches from her neck. "I am no ordinary mage, Viddasala, and you will not lay another finger upon her."

She stared at the stone form of her soldier in horrified bewilderment. Her feet began to scrape backwards, though fear was reluctant to show itself readily on her face. "We'll kill the Inquisitor, then!"

He rolled his eyes. "If you were going to kill her, you would have already done so. What I expect is that you're using her as another trap, thinking I'll be foolish enough to waltz into it and you can make another failed attempt at capturing me. You shouldn't have provoked me; I don't enjoy murder in the slightest." Then he pictured his daughter laying behind him, her very essence being drawn out and leaving her clinging to every breath. He shrugged before adding, "Usually. I'm afraid this time you will be the exception."

"Maraas kata! Ataash Qunari!" she yelled, trying to rally her troops as they began to take the hint that fighting was futile. Nothing has ended! Victory to the Qun!

"Ebasit kata," Solas fired back, close enough now to see the white of her eyes, "itwa-ost." It has ended. You have all fallen. He smiled wryly as she grew visibly shocked at his knowledge of Qunlat. He yearned to feed the terror within her until it burst and she was left as nothing but a mewling shell of her former self. Fire sprang up all around them, clinging to her army and spreading as her soldiers collided into one another, yowling in torment as the scent of burning flesh rose into the air in a thick, black smoke.

Her vision suddenly impaired, the Viddasala began calling out frantic orders to her troops, the spear in her hands trembling as she coughed. The black cloud enshrouding her made her blind and the screams of her kin were near-deafening. "Show yourself, coward! What sort of god attacks from the cover of darkness?"

She immediately regretted her words as a deep, guttural growl was emitted from behind her. She whirled around to meet three pairs of eyes, all glowing red with bloodlust as they neared her. Something warm dripped down her leg as the massive wolf stepped out from the smoke, its claws scraping against the stone as it circled her. She could see the muscles rippling under its dark pelt, could hear its breaths and its tongue running over its chops as it tasted her in the air. There was nowhere to run, there was nothing to do but fight for her life. She let out a roar and stormed the Dread Wolf, who bared his fangs as if he were smiling at her worthless bravado.

He snapped her weapon easily with his jaw, splinters flying everywhere as he pounced on her. Claws dug into the flesh of her shoulders as he growled into her face, lips curling back to reveal an impressive set of teeth. He savored her dread, lapped it up as if that was how he had achieved the name. Then, he tore her to bits, beginning at the non-vitals to prolong her agony. An ear, a horn, then her arms and legs. She was still screaming by the time he ripped open her stomach and ate through her intestines. When he finally came for her throat, some of it still hung from his snout, the blood dripping unceremoniously onto her face as he let out a victorious howl.

He nudged the lifeless shreds of meat and bone with his paw, satisfied when her frozen look of fear was redirected as her head lolled to the side. He dismounted her and stood, watching the flames around him consume the remainder of the group that had tortured his child. He licked the blood from his nose before prowling regally to the pedestal in the center of the room, the fire parting in front of him as if it too was apprehensive of crossing paths with Fen'harel.

By the time he reached Mala'nan, he had morphed back into his human form. He wiped the remaining blood from the corner of his mouth with his sleeve before leaning over her tiny form. He had never been this close to her in the waking world, and for a moment he was scared to touch her as if she might break under his fingertips. His hands slowly lowered themselves around her face, cupping her head in his hands as he examined her for the first time. Behind her eyelids, her eyeballs darted around as if she were in the middle of a dream, but he knew this couldn't be true because of her shackles. Perhaps, he thought sadly, she was trying to see but was so tired her eyes couldn't open. His hands moved to the restraint around her neck, the lyrium stinging his skin as he tugged. With little effort, her neck was free and the torture device was blue dust at her feet. He repeated this with her wrists and ankles, the loud popping of the device breaking failing to rouse her from her troubled snooze. Her skin was red and raw where her confinements had been, puckering up as if she were suffering from burns.

"Mir enansal," he murmured, glowing hands gliding over her wounds as he sat down on the pedestal and pulled her into his lap. "Mir athim." He wasn't sure if it was his voice or the sudden lifting of her pain, but her eyelashes fluttered and she looked up at him. She watched him as he stroked her cheek, the color beginning to spread beneath his fingertips as her body regained its strength. Tiny hands reached up and patted his face as if checking to see if he was real, this bald man who felt so familiar. He was memorizing every aspect of her, from the dimples in her knuckles to the three teeth poking out of her shiny, pink gums.

He let a small flower grow in his hand, watching her as she observed it sprout with a fascinated mien. She waited until its purple petals had finished spreading up to the sky before she clumsily took it into her palm and waved it in front of her face, giggling with a newfound mirth. She proceeded to place the flower on top of her head then offer him the sweetest of smiles. "You are so beautiful," he whispered, a foreign warmth spreading throughout his chest as he gently plucked the flower from atop her hair and tucked it behind her ear. She tilted her head as he spoke, not comprehending his words but knowing their meaning nonetheless. "You have no idea how long I have loved you, da'len." She smiled and tried to respond, hands clapping together in their excitement. "Yes, babadah indeed." He chuckled and pressed a kiss to her forehead, wondering how he could have played a part in creating something so lovely.

The two sat there for a while, completely engrossed with each other. Solas could sense her energy beginning to return, a subtle warmth that changed the hue of her skin from gray to pale pink. He slowly rose to his feet, holding her against as if he were afraid she might fall out of his grasp. It was almost as if she wasn't real, this wonderful little elf with his nose and eyes nearly as big as her heart. Eyes that peered over her father's shoulder to see Cullen laying, unmoving, on his side.

He glanced down at her when she made a strange cooing noise, then watched her take the flower from behind her ear and drop it to the ground. "Did it tickle your ear, vhenan?" He bent down to pick it up from where it had landed, a couple inches from the corpse's face. She accepted the flower when it was offered to her again, but only repeated her previous action, this time with the addition of a string of babbles that appeared to be directed to Cullen. She must think he's asleep, Solas realized, a pang of jealousy causing him to grit his teeth. "Come now, da'len, I must get you someplace safe so I can return for your mother." He started walking away from the pedestal and the dead commander only to be stopped when she erupted in a wail. She was reaching out over his shoulder and slamming her hands against his back, seeming to say: No, we wait for him! Of course, she wouldn't understand that they would be waiting an eternity.

"Ma vhenan, please—" He was met with a series of nonsenses in a tone that was so similar to how Mirana argued that he nearly laughed. She must have learned through observation of the Inquisitor at her meetings. "Why do I have the feeling that you're quite the handful? Your mother is an impressive woman." How could she not be, raising a child on her own? His eyes flashed from Mala'nan to Cullen, his shoulders drooping before they stiffened with resolve. Anyone who would offer their life for another was clearly devoted to them and, as much as it pained him, his daughter had grown attached to the dead man. If he were to be replaced, how would he not be the ideal substitute? Despite all he had sacrificed, the happiness of Mirana and their daughter was still of the utmost importance to him, and if this was his best shot at that, so be it.

He moved back towards the body, Mala'nan growing restless in his arms as they neared. He knelt down in front of Cullen, setting the child down behind him so she wouldn't bear witness to his sightless brown gaze and bluing lips. Sighing, he took the spear into his hands and, with a sharp jerk, yanked it out of his front. Mala'nan jumped as it clattered to the ground a few feet from her, beginning to curiously crawl towards it before a firm word from Solas stopped her. He put his hand to the hole in his chest and sent his energy forward, listened as the flesh stitched itself, rejuvenated cells multiplying and repairing their host. Soon, a circle of new, pink skin had replaced the bloody wound, but the Commander still did not breathe.

Mala'nan, sensing her father's distraction, had moved over to the flower she had bestowed to Cullen, confused as to why it remained on the ground. It appeared as if he were looking right at it—why did he not pick it up and tickle her nose with it like he was supposed to? Frustrated, she picked it up herself and brought its petals down over his eyes and nose, figuring he was asleep and she would have to wake him. She tried this for a minute or so, uttering "words" of encouragement, but to no avail. She combed her mind for more ideas on how to wake him up. She tried talking directly into his ear, then screaming directly into his ear, and when that didn't work she resorted to poking him relentlessly. When nothing changed, she began to cry and flail her arms about, starting to wonder if there were such a thing as a permanent nap. Then, with a single, gravelly word, she was immediately brought out of her fit.

"Mallie?"