A/N: I was bad and didn't read this ahead of time for proofreading so I apologize if you encounter more typos than usual! My grandma has been sick and my parents are away to help her and I've been dog-sitting for them and that's distracted me a lot. Sorry!

Thirteen

Closing the Breach

Solas squinted at the text in front of him, a small tension headache starting up around his temples. The old tome was an ancient Tevinter record, transcribed from parchment scrolls well over two thousand years old. It had been translated at some point from ancient Tevene to common and Solas kept making notations in his private ledger, trying to get the text back to the ancient Tevene and then into elven to achieve the purest translation for his own purposes. Some of his agents still preferred elven and, bercause almost no one knew the written language now, it made for an excellent cipher.

This was laborious and painstaking work, but necessary drudgery. He suspected this record included the location of another foci, recovered from ruins on the outskirts of Arlathan. It probably wasn't fully charged, or even half-charged, but any foci could help him if Rosa's Anchor destabilized. He needed to be ready to save her.

Because if she died, all of Thedas died with her.

Solas had experienced a powerful reminder of that fact when Rosa and Dorian had momentarily disappeared in Alexius' throne room. For a heartbeat he had felt the crushing grip of despair at his throat, knowing he had brought doom upon not just Rosa but all of Thedas again. He had sworn to protect her and Tal, as penance for failing to find a way to save one of his oldest and closest friends—their father, Felassan—and he had failed. Just as he had failed in so many things.

And when she'd reappeared a few seconds later, miraculously, he had been weak with the relief that washed over him. Although he'd wanted to hurry to her after Alexius' surrender and the alliance with the mages, Solas had held himself in check. He watched from a distance on their journey home as Rosa kept to herself and spoke little. He heard from Tal, the only one she seemed close to her currently, that she'd undergone a harrowing experience involving time travel. He didn't know the details yet, though he had learned the gist of it from Varric and Cassandra.

He planned to try and question Dorian for the full story soon, distasteful as that thought was, but hadn't had a chance yet since arriving back at Haven early that morning. Instead of speaking with the Tevinter mage, Solas had instead immediately set his sights on seeking another orb—thus the ancient manuscript from the Imperium that currently occupied his time.

A knock sounded on his door then. Solas lifted his head and sighed, irritated at the disturbance. It was just after dusk and Haven was the kind of town that went to bed with the sun. That meant whoever was at his door was either a drunken friend trying to convince him to go to the tavern, or someone in authority with an urgent message. Shifting his books to cover the manuscript and closing his personal ledger, Solas rose to his feet and left his little desk. Sliding open the slat over the viewport on his door, he saw a gray hood that could have belonged to one of Leliana's scouts.

Sighing again, Solas slid the viewport shut and opened the door. "What can I do for—" he cut himself off as he registered that this was not actually a scout. It was Rosa, standing on his doorstep with an unreadable, somber expression. She wore a grayish battlemage hood that covered her dark hair and her ears, leaving her face in shadow. Her violet eyes looked almost black in the gloom of dusk.

"Rosa?" he asked, taken aback.

Her lips twitched. "Can I come in?"

He hesitated a moment as something twisted inside him with both dread and excitement. His strategy to try and defuse the lingering tension of their relationship had been to avoid her, but that didn't work very well when she didn't play along. He knew she must catch him watching her periodically, locking eyes with him across campfires during their journey back from Redcliffe, but they both pretended it meant nothing. Was that about to change?

…or was this about the dark future she'd witnessed? He'd heard he had been in it. What had she heard from his other self?

"Of course," Solas told her, stepping aside and opening the door wider for her to pass through. His heart galloped in his chest.

Rosa crossed the threshold and strode to his small fireplace, warming her hands. After a moment she pulled back the hood, exposing her dark brown hair in its slight curl that clung to her neck and shoulders. As the moments of silence stretched out to become minutes, Solas retreated to his desk and sat on the chair there with a slight creak from the wood. Brushing his hands over his breeches to sweep away imaginary crumbs, he asked, "What brings you here, Herald?"

"Don't call me that," she snapped without turning away from the fire.

"Apologies," Solas said, but he didn't correct it. He refused to say her name now that they were indoors. It was too intimate, too dangerous. His heart thumped too fast in his chest, but he was pleased that his voice emerged calm and polite. "How can I help you?"

She let out a little huff, shoulders sinking. Then, finally, she began digging at a pouch at her waist. "I don't know what you've heard about what happened in Redcliffe, but I met you there. Another you." She continued fidgeting with something in her hands, facing away from him so that he couldn't see it.

Solas was rigid with apprehension. Clearing his throat, he hedged, "I had not heard that." A lie, but hiding how much he truly knew regarding dangerous topics was always the safest route.

"Well," she said, letting out another breath. "Now you have." She turned round, facing him at last and stalked closer. Her expression was grave, brow furrowed and lips pursed. "The other you made me promise to give you this." She extended her hand out to him and Solas' eyes widened as he realized what it was: the lacquered wolf jawbone he wore. He stared at it, making no move to take it from her.

"You told me to tell you that you were wrong." She wrinkled her nose. "Maybe it's are wrong. You are wrong about something or you will be wrong about something." She sighed, jostling the jawbone as if impatient for him to take it. "You also told me to tell you to let it go. Whatever it is."

Solas stared at the jawbone, unmoving. His mind was blank. He felt cold and then hot and then cold again. You were wrong. Let it go. Eyes flying up to meet Rosa's gaze, he swallowed hard, trying to wet his throat. "Thank you," he said, breathy and quiet.

Rosa motioned with the jawbone again. "Aren't you going to take it?"

Solas lifted one hand to touch the jawbone he already wore. It was identical to the one Rosa held. You were wrong. Let it go. "I…"

"You want to know what else you told me?" Rosa asked him and now there was a hard note in her voice that made Solas want to cringe. He snuck a glimpse of her face and saw her eyes were dark and too wet. "You told me you would explain this to me," she said, gesturing with the jawbone. "You told me all would be made clear."

She let out a bitter laugh. "And then you told me you loved me."

Now Solas did wince, turning his head away with shame that burned his cheeks all the way to his ears. What had happened to him in that alternate future? What did that other Solas know?

"Nothing?" Rosa asked him, spitting the word. "Figures. I guess you have to be dying of red lyrium infection to admit even a hint of what's going on behind that mask of yours. Or maybe you just like lying even more then, just to toy with me?"

He closed his eyes at her words, shoulders sagging. He wanted to refute her, to look her in the eye and tell her I never stopped loving you, Rosa. But doing that would be a grave error and would only cause her—and him—more grief.

"Fine," Rosa grumbled, taking back the proffered jawbone. "If you won't take it, I'll keep it. I guess." She pulled the thin leather cords wider and slipped the jawbone over her head, letting it rest on the outside of her Keeper armor. The bone clinked against the metal adorning her breastplate. She started to lurch toward the door, as if about to stomp out of his cabin, but she paused and then whipped back to him. "If you won't talk to me about that, perhaps you can explain the other crazy shit I saw in the future."

Solas dared to make eye contact with her, waiting expectantly. He didn't trust himself to speak yet, not with his stomach still twisting in anxious knots and his heart pounding. Speak now and he was certain to confess…something. I never stopped loving you. I never should have left you in the Free Marches last year, but I had no choice. I am the great adversary of your people and this world.

I killed your father.

"The breach had expanded so much in the future I saw that the Fade nearly overlaid the world," she said, jaw clenched. "And I could alter reality as if it was a dream." She paused again, eyes narrowing. "You were the one who told me I could. I parted the blighting walls." Lifting both hands, she stared down at them, shaking slightly. "I had so much mana, Solas, and everyone was surprised by it—except you." She shook her head. "Why is that, huh?"

Now he had to say something or she'd figure out the truth of Elvhenan. But what could he tell her? What was he supposed to say? The truth seemed so obvious…

"The Veil was…more permeable in the distant past," Solas said, evading her stare. "Allowing the Elvhen to draw more mana from the Fade. Elvhenan relied on magic in all things. Dreamers such as myself could reshape reality in those days."

Her brow furrowed. "All right," she said, though her tone suggested she didn't believe him. "How about you try explaining why the demon that had possessed Tal—the Formless One—wanted your blood, or, I guess, it was also just happy enough to kill you."

Now Solas' lips parted with shock from both her comment regarding the demon and the casual mention of her brother being possessed. That was something neither Cassandra nor Varric had mentioned. "I'm sorry?"

"I ran into Tal in that dark future," Rosa explained. "He had let the Formless One possess him so he could find me and save me, he said. But the price was that he kill you or collect your blood." She shrugged. "Maybe both. He kept telling me he knew the truth and I would want to kill you if I knew it, apparently." She snorted. "Any great big secrets you'd like to tell me about now? Like, maybe why the Formless One has a personal vendetta against you and a fetish for your blood?" She glared at him, accusingly. "It's not like this is the first time it's come after you."

Heart racing, Solas shook his head. "I served Mythal," he reminded her and it wasn't really a lie, which made it much easier to say. "During the war with the Forgotten Ones I helped lock them away to keep the People safe. The Formless One falsely believes it can free them using my blood."

Rosa frowned, shaking her head. "Mythal locked them away? You locked them away?" she asked.

"I was one of many generals," Solas quickly said, his voice tight with the anxiety stabbing through his gut. This was…too close to the truth for comfort.

"The legends say it was Fen'Harel," she said, making a face. That was the connection he'd so feared she'd make.

"Dalish legends also say that Elgar'nan slew the sun," Solas said, sneering. "And that dwarves were born of elves living beneath the earth, transformed by Mythal.* Legends are wrong." She was entirely too close to the truth. It made it hard for him to breathe, wondering if she could put the pieces together.

"All right," Rosa said, more neutral now. "Speaking of the so-called Creators, maybe you can explain to me why my possessed brother kept telling me about the false-gods coming to enslave him? What false-gods? The Creators? The Old Gods?"

Solas shook his head, ignoring the flutter of panic in the back of his mind and deep within his chest. "I suspect the Formless One told Tal whatever it needed to motivate him. It had no reason to limit itself to the truth."

She dipped her head. "Fair enough, but…" She frowned. "He seemed so certain of it."

Solas said nothing, though he forced himself to continue looking at her, for fear she would cease to believe him if he didn't. In truth, what Tal had apparently told Rosa in that dark future was one of Solas' greatest fears. The Evanuris would return if the Veil weakened enough. It was just one of dozens of reasons why he needed to ensure Rosa succeeded in closing the breach.

With that in mind, Solas asked, "When do you intend to close the breach now that we have the mages?"

"Cassandra and the others want to do it tomorrow afternoon," she replied, fingering the lacquered jawbone hanging against her breastplate. "We have Fiona's best mages," she said, more speaking to herself than to him. "No reason to wait."

"I agree," Solas told her, forcing a wan smile.

Her violet eyes flicked to his and her lips twisted. "Will you be leaving once we've closed the breach?"

He shook his head in the negative. "No. There is still much to be done with the Inquisition." Hesitating a moment, he added, "We have not yet found the Venatori outright."

"I saw plenty of them in Redcliffe in the dark future," Rosa grumbled. She sighed. "And there's also your orb, but I had assumed you'd want to find that alone." She smirked slightly. "You couldn't stand it when the Templars had it in the Circle, though you tried to pretend it wasn't important."

Solas stared at her, fighting the desire to smile or frown with the nervous tension in his stomach. Rosa had a frightening and simultaneously alluring way of reading him far more accurately than he'd have liked. He felt sweat on his back and under his arms, his skin prickling with it. He had to get her off these dangerous topics—the orb, why he had left her in the Free Marches, why the Formless One wanted his blood rather than Mythal's to free its masters, and why the Veil was supposedly so different now than it was in Elvhenan.

"My greatest hope is to recover the orb before it can cause more destruction and loss of life," he said somberly, trying hard not to remember that his own goals would do exactly that.

Rosa made a little scoff, halfway between irritation and amusement. "I wish my life was that simple," she muttered, frowning at him. "Because everywhere I turn I have another goal or challenge." She began counting them off on her fingers. "Protect Tal, close the breach, stop the Venatori, stop people from calling me their Creators-damned Herald, find out what happened to my father, save my left hand, close the bloody rifts all over Thedas, and schmooze with the blighting shemlen."

Solas bristled at her comment about his life being simple and initially opened his mouth to refute her, but stopped when he saw the hard, dry smile over her lips and the sharpness in her gaze. Sometimes Rosa had deliberately provoked him in the Hasmal Circle when they shared dreams because she was trying to ferret out his secrets. It'd been disturbingly effective, to his shame. But he was wise to the tactic now and pinched his lips shut, tightly. "My sympathies," he told her instead, dipping his head.

The intensity in her expression fell away and her shoulders sank. "Yeah," she grumbled, hands dropping to her side, slapping against her thighs. "And one of the most irritating problems I have is you." Her violet eyes narrowed. "What are you up to? Why are you toying with me?" She gripped the lacquered jawbone she'd taken from his other self and tugged on it. "What is this about? What did his message mean, Solas?"

Solas turned his head away from her, evading her eyes again. You were wrong. You are wrong. Let it go. His stomach seemed to swell, rising up into his chest and pushing his heart into his throat. He inhaled shakily and dared to ask, "I was dying of red lyrium infection?"

"Yes," she replied, her tone strained by the traumatic memory. "You and Cassandra and Varric. Leliana had the Blight. The whole world seemed to be dying of red lyrium. It was everywhere…" Her words trailed off and Solas didn't need to look at her to sense her distress. His hands opened and closed on his thighs as he fought the desire to rise and embrace her, to offer comfort.

"It was awful," Rosa muttered, sniffing. "I did everything I could to save you and the others, but…I had to leave Tal trapped behind a wall I created from thin air and I think…I think Varric was killed." She wrapped her arms around herself. "And Iron Bull and Mahanon died after I disappeared in that alternate reality."

Solas wanted to ask her if she and Mahanon had made up after the Fallow Mire and the other elf's subsequent revealing of Solas' true name to the humans. It would be a change of subject from the horror and grief of the dark future, he reasoned. However, he also couldn't deny his own veiled interest in her quasi-relationship with the Dalish man…

Not that there was any hope for him to rekindle what he and Rosa had shared.

You were wrong.

He didn't deserve her. She didn't deserve to be burdened with him. His past. His conflicted mind and monstrous goals. His din'anshiral.

Let it go.

He couldn't. If he did, Elvhenan would truly be dead and the elven people as a whole would soon follow them. He had watched it happening in glacial slow-motion from the Fade as humans enslaved the elves, destroyed their empire twice over. First in Arlathan and all over Thedas, then in the Dales.

But behind those more obvious events was the painful truth of class and biology. Humans had grown more numerous and pushed their elven counterparts into slums and poverty, where they could slowly die. And when elves interbreed with humans, by choice or by force, the children born of the union were primarily human. Elf-blooded offspring were not part of the People. It was wasted blood, wasted life. The humans were like a child with trimming shears, hacking and cutting away willy-nilly in a garden with malicious intent. Eventually the plant would die.

The elven race would die out entirely.

Mythal seemed to have already succumbed to this idea with no sentimentality at all when she chose a human vessel. But Solas refused. He could save them. He must save them.

"I'm…sorry," he told her, stiltedly, still unable to do more than peek at her occasionally. He didn't know if his words were an offering of sympathy for what she'd endured, or if he was double-speaking and actually apologizing to her and his other self for not listening to the message.

You were wrong. Let it go.

"What did the message mean, Solas?" Rosa pressed again, her voice hardening. "Why did you really abandon me if you still love me? Don't feed me nugshit about serving Mythal or chasing your orb. You could have contacted me. You should have contacted me." She made a little noise of distress in her throat, reminiscent of a hiccup. "If you had, maybe…"

He closed his eyes, feeling nauseous as he tried to show no reaction. He could not dare to speak now or it would all come spilling out. You were wrong. Let it go. His hands opened and closed on his thighs as he fought back the growing need to reach out for her, to hold her.

"There's something…" She sounded as though she were just a fingersbreadth from crying, sobbing outright. "Something you should know."

Clenching his jaw, Solas allowed himself to look at her now. Tears sparkled on her cheeks, orange in the firelight from his small hearth. Her lips were pinched together hard and her throat bobbed, nostrils flaring with the strength of her emotion. He stayed tensed, rigid with self-restraint and tried to ignore the cold ache in his own throat as his body and his heart reacted to the sight of her misery. His heart hammered, certain suddenly that whatever she had to tell him would break him.

He had to get her out.

You were wrong.

He had to stop her from speaking.

Let it go.

"Rosa," he stammered. "Please, I cannot…cannot…"

"You don't want to know," she said, anger darkening her tear-streaked face. Her jaw squared, nostrils flaring with each breath. "You're a coward." She snorted derisively. "Why am I wasting my time here?" she asked, turning away from him with a sharp, angry shake of her head. "Why do I keep coming back to you, flat-ear?"

He winced, licking his lips as he hurriedly apologized again. "Ir abelas…" He kept the term of endearment vhenan from leaving his lips with an effort and stayed seated in his chair, sweaty hands gripping at his thighs. Why was this so much harder than facing off against the Evanuris and the Forgotten Ones?

She let out a hard, bitter laugh and shot a glare at him over her shoulder. "Ir abelas," she spat. "Ir abelas…" She hung her head and Solas saw her hands curl into shaking fists at her sides. "You're sorry. Sorry for my loss? You. Have. No. Idea."

And then, suddenly, she stomped for his door and ripped it open. On the threshold she paused and snatched the lacquered jawbone. With a snarl, she tore it free, snapping the cords. Glaring at him, she threw the jawbone into the dirt and snow at the entrance to his door and spat, "Dirthara ma, harellan."

Solas winced at the curse and then again as the door slammed shut. Stunned and stricken, he sat motionless, not even breathing as he heard her footsteps retreating away. The curse she'd used was one forgotten in recent times, as far as Solas knew. It must be something she'd learned from her father. Dirthara ma. May you learn. Adding harellan was even worse, in ways Rosa couldn't know.

After a few moments in the deafening silence, Solas rose from his chair and moved to the door. Opening it, he saw the lacquered jawbone sitting in the dirt. The night was quiet and peaceful, with no others to have witnessed this spat. At least that was a small mercy.

He knelt and, with gentle fingers, picked up the jawbone. He handled it for a moment, seeing a few nicks and stains that weren't on the one he wore, not to mention the broken cords. Shoulders heavy and his heart aching, Solas retreated back inside. Placing the jawbone atop his books, he retreated to his bed, planning on consulting with Wisdom regarding this and then alternatively thinking he would seek out his agents instead, throwing himself into his role as Fen'Harel and burying his heart.

Either way, he was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

"Twenty royals says Violet closes the breach today on her first try—no problems," Varric said, grinning as he slapped a hand to his coat pocket, letting everyone hear the jangle of coins there that promised he'd be as good as his word when and if it came time to pay up.

Tal snorted at the dwarf, returning his grin. "I'm not going to bet against my sister. If she doesn't close the breach straight away using the mark she'll probably scold it until it closes on its own cuz it's sick of listening to her."

Rosa shot him a withering look. "Thanks, Tal."

"You're welcome!" he replied, all smiles before he laughed.

"Anyone willing to bet she won't close it on the first try though?" Varric pressed, still after a bet. His voice was a bit breathy from the steep incline of the mountain path, due to his short legs.

They were walking toward what was left of the Temple, trudging through the snow and uphill. The wind howled and tugged on their clothing and hair, as if angry with them for disturbing this once sacred place. Snow flew in fitful starts and stops. The sun was high overhead, lighting the scattered, wispy clouds a brilliant white.

"Why are you even here, Varric?" Rosa asked, a touch irritable. They'd marched for the Temple with as many mages as they could, as well as a smattering of Templars who'd joined their cause at the outset. The Templars were here at Cullen and Vivienne's insistence, a precaution against abomination and…whatever. They also had a handful of other important people and soldiers in case the breach spat out another pride demon, but with so many mages those men and women were a bit superfluous.

All that meant Varric's presence was entirely optional, as was Mahanon's, but both had insisted on coming along, though for very different reasons.

"I'm here because someone has to record this for later," Varric said, sounding a little affronted.

"There are plenty of people here who can do that," Rosa told him, smirking at his irritation.

"Yeah," the dwarf agreed, puffing. "But none of them will be able to write it like I can."

"You mean fictionalizing it," Rosa teased.

"I'd never do that, Violet. I might exaggerate, but I'd never outright lie about something like this," Varric protested.

"Oh," Tal said, laughing. "When you write me, can you say that I'm a buff warrior, like Fenris? Only, say I'm way more handsome, being tall, broad-shouldered, and with dark hair."

"And puppy eyes," Rosa put in, grinning. "Can't forget his puppy eyes, Varric."

"I do not have puppy eyes," Tal retorted. "I mean, not since I was like ten."

"I think she's got you there, Stoic," Varric said, chuckling breathily.

"Well," Tal said, huffing. "If you're going to say that about me, you have to write about Rosa's big nasty birthmark on her ass."

"I do not have a birthmark on my ass," Rosa said, flushing at the suggestion.

"And her hairy shoulders," Tal added. "Can't forget that."

Varric laughed as Rosa twisted around, falling behind to cuff her brother. "Seriously?"

"I think it's a great detail!" Varric announced. "It's believable and makes you a little less larger than life if you have a birthmark or some other flaw."

"I have plenty of flaws," Rosa grumbled. "There's no need to make more up."

Tal grinned at her. "Whatever you say, asamalin."

"Rosa," Mahanon called over his shoulder to her from higher on the mountainside. "You're falling behind and holding up the line!"

She sighed and started walking again, a little faster to make up for lagging behind. She watched Mahanon's quiver and his bow thump on his back and knew her own staff was doing the same. Dorian was ahead of Mahanon and Cassandra was ahead of him, leading with Cullen and the handful of heavily armored Templars. Vivienne and Solas were behind, further down the line to organize the mages they'd brought with them straight from Redcliffe.

She blocked any thought of Solas out of her head as she marched onward, though she did wince with humiliation as she couldn't stop herself from remembering that she'd been about to tell him everything. What had happened that spring, when she'd been thrown from the halla. The terrible grief and loss that'd left her bedridden for two weeks afterward, drifting aimless in the Fade, searching for some sign of him and finding nothing concrete. Maybe she would've even told him that, despite her own better sense and the heartbreak he'd caused her, she still knew she loved him.

Better for them both that he'd been the coward and refused to hear it.

They moved off the mountainside and dropped into the cratered ruins of the Temple itself. Cassandra and Cullen and then other Templars led them, swords and shields at the ready. No one knew how the breach would react when Rosa approached it again. They had to be ready for anything. Cassandra ordered archers to stand on the ledges above the breach, their bows at the ready.

Rosa lingered above the breach, waiting tensely with Tal and Varric at her side as Solas and Vivienne—well, mostly it was Solas because the rebel mages sneered at Vivienne for her loyalty to the Circles—organized the mages. Mahanon joined the other archers and the Templars right away, rather than lingering with her. It seemed to take forever, letting Rosa have a long time to stare at the twisted stone and the flecks of red lyrium, gleaming crimson around the crater. What was it? And why was it here? She shuddered at seeing it, thinking of the darkness that'd clung to Tal and the way he had been able to control everyone infected with it.

She hadn't told Tal about his possessed self in that dark future, but she suspected Tal knew of it anyway. She snuck quick peeks at her brother as he idly checked over his staff, ensuring it was ready. He seemed so…well-adjusted. Would losing her truly unhinge him so much that he would volunteer his body to the Formless One? But he'd also talked about saving that dark world with the Formless One's help. His motives had been twisted by the demon, but they were still pure beneath.

"If I die," she blurted suddenly in elven, staring at her brother. "I want you to promise me you won't try to avenge me or talk to any demons at all. Do you understand me?"

Tal lifted his head, brow furrowing. "What?"

She drew in a deep breath, tensing her shoulders and ignoring the arched eyebrow Varric sent her way. "I know you've been talking to Dorian about what happened in Redcliffe."

He shifted from one foot to the other and shrugged. "So?"

"Did he tell you we ran into another you and that you'd let yourself be possessed by a demon?"

"Yes," he answered, swallowing hard and glancing to Varric before switching to elven as well. "You're not going to die today, Rosa."

"I don't care about today," she said, waving a hand dismissively at the breach. "I mean any time. Whenever my time comes. Don't do anything stupid. It's not worth it. You can't trust any demon. Especially not the Formless One."

"Duh," he retorted, snorting. "If it will make you fee better, then yes. I promise."

She clapped him on the shoulder and smiled as she squeezed. "Good."

Now Tal's brow furrowed and he frowned. "Do you know why I apparently wanted to kill Solas?"

She paused a moment before shaking her head. "I'm still trying to figure that out."

"Talking about old flames now?" Varric interjected, having clearly recognized Solas' name amidst the elven words.

"Something like that," Rosa muttered, scowling as she looked up at the breach. It glimmered green, high up. Solas' orb had caused this. The realization hit her all over again and she shook her head, dizzied.

"Herald," Cullen called out to her from further around the ledge circling the crater. When she raised her head the ex-Templar smiled at her. "We're ready to begin."

She nodded and pushed off the twisted stone she'd been leaning against. Drawing in a deep breath, she strode forward. Tal and Varric followed behind her, their feet scuffing over the uneven stone. Rosa passed Cullen as he went to join his Templars and other soldiers, circling lower to reach the depth of the crater at the base of the shattered statue of Andraste. Varric stopped to join the archers, Bianca at the ready, but Tal continued on with her. The mages she passed nodded to her, eyes bright and expressions brimming with awe. A few of them murmured "Herald," at her as she passed.

Dropping down into the low point with a grunt, Rosa saw Cassandra and Solas waiting for her. Cassandra nodded to her. "We're ready, Herald. Solas will rally the mages when you begin."

Her gaze flicked to her ex-lover and she saw, of course, that he wasn't looking at her. His focus was on his staff, which he held gripped in both hands. The knuckles on his hands flared white his grip was so tight.

She glanced over her shoulder and upward, searching for Tal and finding him standing with his staff out beside the other mages. He smiled at her, warm and encouraging.

Lifting her left hand, Rosa thought about the Anchor and felt it flare to life with a shot of white-hot pain through the fine bones in her palm. She blew out a breath as she saw the green glow shimmer awake, crackling like lightning or fire. "All right," she said and stepped forward. "Let's get this over with."

Her motion forward seemed to be Solas' cue to spring into action. He walked past her, behind her back, his feet crunching over the grit and gravel. "Focus past the Herald," he told them in a strong, clear voice. "Let her will draw from you."

Rosa breathed deeply, trying to keep her own focus through the agony in her hand, burning through her palm and up into her wrist. The breach seemed to fight her as she drew closer. Green eddies broke over her, setting her skin tingling with a sensation similar to magic. And, underlying it, she could feel the blissful song she'd felt in the dark future just distantly, reaching out to her.

The mages behind her channeled their mana then and Rosa felt the surge of it as a pulse of heat and pleasure that made her stumble. Her ears buzzed and her head swam with vertigo. She gnashed her teeth to keep from moaning. Even the pain in her hand vanished, becoming a fierce heat that was just shy of painful.

This is…this is… Her thoughts scattered, difficult to hold. Somewhere, through it all, she heard whispers speaking in elven. We are here. We have waited. We have slept. We are sundered. We are crippled. We are polluted.

Not this again, she thought, gooseflesh breaking out over her skin.

We endure.

We wait.

She thrust her open palm at the rift, hoping to shut the whispers up. The green-white threads pulsated and Rosa felt them burning in her flesh, making her shake, but the pleasure of all the mana flowing into her masked it, letting her continue. Then, just when she was beginning to feel woozy, the breach shuddered and let out a dull boom! The shockwave smashed into Rosa, knocking her backward as it raced away in all directions.

For a moment she lapsed into unconsciousness, her hand afire with pain that followed her into the Fade. She saw seven shapes, bipedal and shining a variety of colors—red, green, and gold. She felt their anger in waves, lashing at her—and then, immediately after, she felt their surprise and shock as a cold prickling over her skin.

"A slave?" one shape, glowing gold, asked in a disbelieving growl.

"One of yours?" another in green asked, and unlike the first it sounded female.

They were speaking elven and they felt…they felt like Dreamers. The Fade warped around them, like light bent by mirrors. They cast long shadows in her mind, looming and enormous. Who were these beings? And what kind of bizarre dream was this?

And then one of the three shapes glowing red edged closer to her and Rosa felt her face burn. "Slave," the shape said, male again. "Tell me—"

But then she snapped awake, gasping as she grabbed at her face, feeling the stinging sensation of burns still over her cheeks, forehead, and chin. Scrambling partly upright, she twisted round to see Cassandra hurrying over to her, boots crunching on the gravel. "Herald?" she called, her voice worried.

Rosaa saw the mages, archers, and Templars had all been knocked back by the shockwave but were now righting themselves. She saw Mahanon staring down at her, his brow furrowed with concern. Further down and closer to the drop off point, Rosa saw Tal also standing up, helping another mage nearby to get to his feet as well. It took Rosa a moment to realize the other mage was Dorian. Varric was with the mages now, having apparently left the archers to get closer to the action.

Glancing to the breach, Rosa let out a shuddering breath as relief washed over her. The sky was clear, with no sign of the sinuous, green ribbon of the rift overhead. Good, she thought. The dark future would never come to pass now. The Veil was whole and the Elder One, whoever and wherever he was, lacked his mages now. There might still be a demon army and an assassination to worry about, but that could be someone else's problem. A shemlen problem. Cassandra's problem.

As if the Seeker could overhear her thought and found it scandalous, Cassandra gasped above her. Her hand, reaching for Rosa's shoulder, withdrew as if she'd been about to touch open flame. "Herald…" she said, brown eyes wide. "Your…"

Rosa frowned up at the Seeker. "What is it?" she asked as she grunted, trying to rise to her feet.

"Your…marks," the Seeker said, shaking her head in consternation.

Rosa looked down at her left hand, but the mark had gone dormant and was no longer visible. She frowned at Cassandra in confusion and was about to speak when Solas was suddenly nearby, his expression grave.

"Your vallaslin," he told her, quiet and solemn. He sidled around Cassandra and, in an even quieter voice, asked, "If you will allow me…." He lifted one hand and she sensed his magic, building just beneath his skin.

She realized that she did still feel her face-her vallaslin, actually—burning and thought of Rogathe with panic. Clutching at the cord attached to the raven talisman, she nodded her consent and Solas' hand gleamed green-white. He did not raise it to her face, merely made a slight wave of his hand, as though dismissing something or someone. Rosa felt the heat in her face cool immediately.

"Thanks," she told him, stiffly, aware of the celebratory whooping from the gathered force of mages, Templars, scouts, and soldiers all around. Most of them hadn't noticed her glowing vallaslin, thankfully.

But Cassandra had.

"What was that?" she asked, shaking her head.

"A side effect of closing the breach, I suspect," Solas answered for her, lying smoothly.

Rosa smiled, as though her heart wasn't racing with deep, cold fear. "Must be, but that's besides the point." She gestured at the sky. "We did it!"

"Yes," Cassandra agreed, her shoulders slouching slightly with what must have been extreme relief. "You did it, Herald."

Rosa was about to scold the Seeker for using that ridiculous title again when she saw Tal and Mahanon drop down into the crater, rushing for her. Tal appeared gleeful, almost giddy as he grinned and laughed. Mahanon, meanwhile, looked apprehensive as he threw Solas a suspicious glare.

"You did it, asamalin!" Tal shouted, running to her to embrace her.

Rosa let her tension fall away as she hugged him back, squeezing tightly. Yes, I did. But it wasn't about closing the breach. It was about saving Tal, Cassandra, Mahanon, Iron Bull, Varric, Sera, Leliana, Cullen, Blackwall, and even Vivienne and everyone else. Even Solas.

Maybe, if she was being honest with herself, especially Solas. She tried not to be honest with herself, though, as their party returned to Haven, dizzy with triumph.

All of Haven was celebrating, but Solas was doing anything but as he paced his cabin, hands clutched behind himself and shoulders hunched. The memory of Rosa's vallaslin glowing crimson as she lifted her head after closing the breach kept streaking through his mind's eye, tormenting him with questions and fears and indecision.

He guessed by Rosa's instinctual clutching for the raven talisman, buried under her armor, that she had mistakenly thought the glow was from Rogathe. Solas knew, judging by the coloration, that it was not. The red coloration was identical to what he'd seen countless times in Elvhenan when a slave-owner had activated the compulsion in his property's vallaslin. It was a form of blood magic, hence the name for the tattoos: blood writing.

What had she seen as she closed the breach? What had touched her with that kind of magic? The only beings who would know how to use it were the Evanuris and a select few ancient spirits and demons that might be able to use such magic against Rosa. But the spirits—even the demons—were unlikely to do so. Powerful beings like the Formless One and Imshael delighted in free will and trickery. Outright control was boring to them and they weren't likely to stand against Rosa trying to close this breach. Many of them would tacitly hope Solas succeeded in his plans as they had no desire to see the Veil fail in this uncontrolled way Corypheus had begun because it would unleash the Evanuris.

That meant the most likely culprits were the Evanuris themselves. And they should be slumbering in their corrupted stronghold the humans had dubbed the Black City. They should be incapable of harassing anyone from the Fade, but…

Rosa's voice from the previous day echoed in the back of his mind as she told him about the dark future she'd seen: …my possessed brother kept telling me about the false-gods coming to enslave him…

Perhaps the breach had woken their minds and the Veil had weakened enough to let them watch the Fade, as if from uthenera, the same way he had. And, like him, they could use some limited magic in that state and touch mortals' dreams. It made sense they would watch the breach very closely, if so. And they were very much likely to oppose Rosa's attempt to seal the breach.

And with her vallaslin, Rosa would be vulnerable.

He could save her, but doing it risked revealing too much. More and more pieces of the puzzle were filtering their way to Rosa and eventually she would unravel the knot to make sense of it. For his sake, he should be silent.

He held his head, pressing hard on his skull as he cursed. "Fenedhis." Outside, all around Haven, he heard the cheering and songs of everyone celebrating. It mocked him, inundating and snagging his thoughts as he tried to work out a way to approach Rosa and gain her trust enough that she would allow him to remove the vallaslin…ideally without revealing much about his concerns.

The only answer that kept coming to him was one he couldn't use, no matter how much he desperately wanted to.

You were wrong.

Let it go.

If he put aside his past, abandoning Fen'Harel and his duties to the People, he could tell her he still loved her, that he wanted to share his life with her—that he should have stayed with her in the Free Marches last winter. He could tell her he hated seeing the marks of a slave over the face of someone he loved. He could tell her that he wanted to work at her side with the Inquisition to defeat the Venatori and their would-be Magister god and, when he had his orb back, he would remove the Anchor from her and destroy it. He would dash any chance to save the elven people, but he could choose his own happiness, his own selfishness, over everything else. And they could safeguard this world together, in whatever limited capacity they could with their short, mortal lives…

Assuming she'd forgive him. But, even if she didn't, he'd probably be able to convince her to let him remove her vallaslin.

I can't do that, he thought over and over again, only to hear Rosa's words as she relayed the message from his other self.

You were wrong. Let it go.

He wanted to let it go. He wanted to shrug out of the burden he'd carried for thousands of years the way he shed his vest after a long day of travel. He wanted to simply be Solas once more. Solas, who had been nothing but an unremarkable young man from a little village in Elgar'nan's lands, the beloved only child to librarian Sylvun and headmistress Renan.

But only Fen'Harel could save the People from extinction.

You were wrong, Rosa's voice whispered in his head. You are wrong.

He froze midway in his pacing circuit from fireplace to door, staring ahead without actually seeing anything. If only he could be confident that Rosa and Tal would join him if they knew the truth…

He had sworn never to recruit them, though it was a tantalizing, tempting option. His friend Wisdom had told him that he must not seek to recruit them, but to tell them the truth. He couldn't deny the wisdom in that view. To recruit the siblings was to use them, while telling them the truth was trusting them. But he couldn't trust them, not when he didn't know how they'd react. If they turned against him, he'd have to kill them.

Would he?

He'd killed Felassan when his old friend defied him and now, in hindsight, it seemed a mistake. He could have found some other solution, even if it was one he abhorred, like using blood magic to wipe much of his old friend's memory. And yet, he knew he'd do it all over again, but…

You were wrong.

Groaning, Solas abandoned his pacing and whipped around to go to the door. He snatched up his vest and shrugged it on as he tore open the door and marched into the gathering gloom of nightfall.

Let. It. Go.

*References a legend I made up and had Tal retell in Solas the Circle Mage. Basically, the elves living belowground captured Mythal and pissed off Elgar'nan in doing it so much that he planned to slaughter every last one of them, despite the fact that most were innocent. When Mythal escaped, she took pity on them and, to save them, cast a powerful spell to make them short and stocky, to better hide in cracks where Elgar'nan couldn't reach. She also cut them off from the Fade, denying them magic and dreaming so they would be safe while they slept from Elgar'nan's wrath there too. Thus, the first dwarves were created. Solas thinks this is bullshit, obviously.

Next Chapter:

"Did you forget what happened?" Mahanon demanded of her. The words were slurred and he swayed just slightly as he motioned to her. Rosa could smell the alcohol on his breath. She needed to end this confrontation before Mahanon said something she'd rather not have aired in front of Solas.

"You're right, Han," she told him, voice quiet and hoarse.

"Creators," Mahanon barked. "Of course I'm right." He whipped back around and glowered at Solas. "Do you even know, you flat-eared son of a bitch? Do you know what you put her through? Did you know she almost died this spring when—"

Rosa snatched Mahanon's shoulder and jerked him back to face her, snarling. "That's enough, Han! Shut. Up!"

Endnote: Next chapter starts the rollercoaster of "In Your Heart Shall Burn" which turned into three chapters for me...Pre-Cory confrontation. Cory Confrontation. And then Post-Cory.

Thank you RandomRockets! Yes, we do have to keep the suspense going, but my thinking was that Redcliffe Solas was still trying to CYA Past-Solas' ass. Like..."He'll do the right thing. I know he will...I'll let him handle the truth telling part." Oh, Solas.

And thank you to Sutet! Yes, yes, that was indeed a well-timed arrow from Leliana. Solas will have to thank her for that. Like *wink* thanks for having my back, spymaster! Glad you liked the Raselan and Tal curveball! I have more such curveballs planned.

Thank you Urazz! It was a dark chapter, yes. The dark future is so grim and gruesome! Champions of the Just is dark too and the whole demon-in-your-head thing is cool to explore as well, but...yeah. I have so many unanswered questions about Redcliffe and how it pertains to Solas! Argh!

I know everyone's going: "WHAT?! How could you leave it there?!" And then some of you are reading the chapter sneak peek and going, "OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG!" Why? Because I'm evil. Buahahaha! Until next week!