A/N: Here comes the Cory rollercoaster!

Fourteen

In Your Heart Shall Burn Part 1: Flat-Eared Bastard

"I've never slept with a man," Mahanon said, a small smirk twitching his lips as he stared across the room to Tal, who sat with his back to the little fireplace inside Rosa's cabin.

Tal raised his mug of ale in salute. "You got me, lethallin," he said and took a long swig of his drink, sighing with satisfaction as he lowered it again.

Rosa was staring at the floor between them, barely registering their playful banter as they continued their drinking game of I Never. She had been partaking in the festivities as well, sipping her own ale and adding in things she'd never done to keep the game going. But, honestly, with just the three of them, it wasn't all that exciting. They knew one another too well. So, instead, Rosa found herself remembering the intimidating beings she'd seen so briefly in the Fade when she closed the breach.

A slave? One of the gold-shining forms had said. He'd been talking about her.

"Hey," Mahanon said, jerking his chin at her. "Did you hear, vhenan?"

She blinked and, vaguely remembering what he'd said, raised her mug to her lips and took a drink. She forced herself to smile. "You got me, of course."

"My turn," Tal chimed in, clearing his throat. "I've never been to Antiva."

Now Mahanon drank, quick but deeply. After he'd finished, Tal stabbed a finger at him. "I knew you understood that Antivan trader a few weeks back."

"I'd be happy to teach you," Mahanon told him and then motioned using his mug toward Rosa. "And you as well."

One of yours? The female voice from the being in green asked in Rosa's head. Which figure had it been speaking to? Was it the red one who'd approached her a moment later?

"Your turn," Tal said and then, when she didn't reply, said, "Rosa? Thedas to Rosa!"

She snapped to attention, blinking as she realized it was her turn. Quickly she said, "I've never fucked a Tal-Vashoth."

Tal guffawed, slapping the floor beside him. "Really? That doesn't count."

She shot him a smirk. "Drink."

"But I didn't," Tal protested, laying a hand over his chest. "Herah just grabbed me by the balls that one time when we were drunk and making out. That's not fucking and you know it."

She rolled her eyes, noting the disgusted expression on Mahanon's face. "All right then, let me rephrase. I've never kissed or felt up or been felt up by a Tal-Vashoth."

Tal sighed and drank from his mug. At Mahanon's disgusted cluck of the tongue Tal frowned at him. "C'mon, prude. Herah was sexy. Don't try to deny it. If you weren't such a bigot you'd be jealous." He sighed then, shoulders slumping. "I miss her and Kaaras and all of the Valo-Kas who didn't make it out of the Temple."

Rosa swallowed, sympathizing with Tal's grief. She'd liked Kaaras for his dry wit and easygoing nature. Herah had been a bit pricklier, and she'd been a little too sexually aggressive, making obvious and rather crude advances on all of the elves in some kind of quest just to see if she could seduce one of them. Tal had been the only one to play along, much to his fellow Dalish elves' horror. Even Rosa, who knew him so well, had been a little surprised. But if Tal denied actual sex with Herah now, she was inclined to believe him.

"My turn again, then," Mahanon said. "I've never slept with a shemlen."

Tal snorted and took a short sip of his mug. At Mahanon's ongoing disgusted look, he shrugged and spoke out with an irritable, defensive voice. "What? My birth clan was in the Dales and we ran into them constantly. I met humans who said they were elf-blooded all the time and they felt this kinship with us because of it and…well, why not?"

"And you?" Mahanon asked her, a wary look crossing his face.

Rosa rolled her eyes. "You already know the answer is no."

"Seriously, Han," Tal said, chuckling dryly. "She's only into purebloods."

"And flat-ears," Mahanon muttered, frowning into his mug.

"Han," Rosa growled, closing her eyes in anger—but what she saw on her eyelids was the red being from the Fade, drawing closer to her and demanding, Slave, tell me…

What? What had it wanted to know? She dreaded the thought of falling asleep tonight, wondering if those beings would be waiting for her.

"Sorry," Mahanon answered and rubbed at his face. "I…I think I've had too much to drink."

He and Tal and Varric and a number of others had been in the tavern drinking before this. Rosa had been with Cassandra, Cullen, Josephine, Leliana, and even the snooty Vivienne in a meeting before this and hadn't had a drop of alcohol until coming back to her cabin to find Tal and Mahanon waiting for her.

"Were you this insecure in your clan?" Tal asked Mahanon, shaking his head.

"No," Rosa answered for Mahanon, idly swirling her ale in its mug. In their clan Mahanon had been a gentleman, gracious and kind. Traveling with him in the Valo-Kas had been something of a shock as he lashed out at the men in their mercenary troop and revealed his deep-seated bigotry toward other races. She'd known he resented humans, but that was common among the Dalish and elves in general, but Mahanon didn't like the Tal-Vashoth and Qunari either, calling them brutes and savages.

Mahanon scowled at both of them. "I am not insecure."

"Of course you are," Tal shot back, making a sweeping gesture with his mug. "That's why you're always so jealous and suspicious."

"I'm not insecure," Mahanon repeated, growling. His face was bright red, down to his neck and up to his ears.

"Well," Tal said, shrugging. "It's that or you're just a prick."

Mahanon scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Shut up, pipsqueak."

"I'm meatier than you are," Tal shot back, laughing with a noticeable edge to his voice. "And you know it."

"I'm your elder," Mahanon reminded him. "You should show some respect."

"And I'm First to Manaria," Tal retorted. "Big deal. Out here we're all just savages with tattoos on our faces."

Remembering the burning from her glowing vallaslin, Rosa reached up and touched her markings, frowning. She hadn't felt as though Rogathe had stirred in her and the talisman hadn't stopped working as far as she could tell. If it wasn't Rogathe then…what had made her vallaslin burn?

Solas would know, but the last thing she wanted was to ask him.

Then, as if her thoughts had summoned him, Rosa heard knuckles rap against the door to her cabin. Mahanon grunted from his chair and Tal squinted at the door, as if he hoped to see through the wooden barrier to the outside. Neither rose to answer it right away and so Rosa sprang upright, setting her mug onto the floor in front of the bed. "I'll get that, you drunkards."

Tal snorted, laughing as he lifted his mug to his lips. Mahanon was more gracious, nodding to her as he said, "Ma serannas."

Already feeling cold and tightly wound with apprehension, Rosa slid open the viewport and saw, sure enough, a pair of dark blue seed-shaped eyes set in pallid skin flick up and meet hers through the slat. Sliding it shut again, Rosa sighed, steeling herself for whatever was about to come and tugged open the door.

"Rosa," Solas greeted her, his voice strained. His expression looked almost as though he was in pain. "Herald," he said, swallowing. "I had hoped to speak with you in private."

He was speaking softly, but apparently not enough to escape notice from Tal and Mahanon. The latter was stomping out of the living area and through the foyer, glowering. Tal was scrambling in an unsteady, drunken gait to try and hold Mahanon back.

"What are you doing here, flat-ear?" Mahanon growled.

Solas' gaze flicked to the other man for an instant and then away again, dismissing him, apparently. After their discussion regarding Mahanon's insecurity, Rosa had to admit how refreshing his confidence was. "Apologies," he said, sounding polite. "I do not mean to alarm anyone, but—"

"Get out of here, flat-ear," Mahanon snarled, trying to shoulder past Rosa.

Rosa turned and pushed Mahanon backward. "Knock it off, Han. You're drunk." Looking to Tal, she motioned back inside. "Why don't you and Han go back to celebrating? I'm sure this won't take long."

"Rosa," Mahanon protested, spluttering. His hazel eyes crinkled with something akin to anguish. "Please…"

"Go back inside," she told him again, using her authoritative voice, the one she had been practicing since becoming First as a child.

Mahanon heaved a sigh and turned round, letting Tal hook his arm through his elbow and tug him toward the living area and the fire. "Chill out, Han," Tal said, his words a little slurred. "She hates him, remember? But he has his uses. Remember Rogathe?"

Huffing irritably, Rosa stepped out of the cabin and shut the door behind her. She crossed her arms, tucking her hands beneath her armpits for warmth, and glared up at Solas. "What do you want, harellan?" she asked him, snarling.

Her words made him wince as if she'd slapped him. "I…" He broke off and stared at her, an unreadable mix of emotions darkening his features, but primary among them was grief. "I needed time to consider the message you gave me."

She stared at him, staying silent, arms still crossed over her chest.

He fidgeted a moment and then turned, gesturing at the path behind him, leading toward the stairs ascending higher into Haven. "Will you walk with me?"

She hesitated, her gaze scanning over Haven in the dark as she debated whether she should agree or rebuff him. What was he up to? Was this just another time he would toy with her? Searching over his expression, she at last sighed and gave in. "All right," she agreed.

They set out walking away from her cabin, side by side. Solas took her along the inside of Haven's defensive wall made of rough-hewn timber. They could hear the merrymaking and laughter from the tavern on the hill above them. Someone was fiddling on a violin and another person was singing a jaunty tune in Orlesian to go with it.

As they approached the trebuchet at the end of the path, the music and singing having died away with the distance, Rosa heaved a sigh. "Are we just walking together, Solas?" she asked. "Or did you actually have something you wanted to tell me?"

"I…" His lips quirked downward. "I have been trying to find the right words."

"You said this was about the message the other you gave you?" she asked, trying to prompt him. "The one about being wrong and letting it go." She snorted, frowning as she looked at the rocks and trees off to her left, opposite the trebuchet. "I wish the other you could have been a bit more talkative." She cut herself off, remembering the sickly crimson glow and the heat thrown off by that other Solas' skin. The dying Solas. She swallowed the sudden lump that formed in her throat at the thought. As complex as her emotions for the Elvhen man were, she couldn't deny that thinking about him sick and dying, weak and suffering and hopeless, left her hurting with sympathy.

"There are…many things I have not told you," Solas hedged, grimacing. "And you are correct. I have been a coward, but…" He stopped, staring ahead and sighing. His shoulders rose and fell with the long inhalation he took next as he pivoted to face her, his brows curling down on the outsides. "One day I will tell you, but for now I ask you to be patient with me. I…" His blue eyes skittered away. "For my own safety, I must keep a great deal hidden—even from you."

"About your past," Rosa murmured, frowning. "About Elvhenan." Her father had been the same, though she had not really realized it for most of her life. He had been dismissive, playful, or cagey about subjects deemed utterly serious by the People—like the fall of Elvhenan or the sanctity of the Creators, who he actually abhorred. Solas had always reminded her on some level of Ivun or Felassan or whatever name he wanted to call himself by.

Now Solas' blue eyes locked with hers. "Yes."

She shook her head, irritated and struggling with the desire to tell him how much he reminded her of her father—but that wouldn't mean anything to Solas. He hadn't known her father and didn't know that he had also been her mentor, the man who'd abandoned her on the Storm Coast when she'd first been trying to get Rogathe to leave her. She'd never forgiven him for that and had lashed out at him at every meeting after that. The end result, she suspected, was that her last words to him had been uttered in bitter anger.

If there was one thing the dark future had shown her, it was how fast things could change—how quickly she could lose everything and everyone. Recalling her last words to her father, which she regretted with a painful stab through her ribs every time she considered them, made her quash her irritation and frustration toward Solas. She wanted to scoff at him and say, You brought me out here just to tell me what I already know and dangle the promise that someday, maybe, when you're good and ready, you'll tell me the truth?

But she held her tongue and instead forced a smile as she nodded at him. "I see." She heaved a disappointed sigh and started to turn away—but Solas caught her arm.

"Rosa," he said, sounding earnest and somber. "Please stay a moment longer."

When she didn't immediately tug her arm from his grasp and shot him a sidelong glance instead, waiting, Solas continued. "I wanted you to know I regret leaving you in the Free Marches. You were right. I was wrong and…"

She pivoted slightly to face him again and felt Solas' grip on her forearm tighten. His blue eyes were dark, his stare intense in the gloom. "Not a day went by when I did not think of you." His lips pinched together. "I did what I thought would be better for us both when I left and did not contact you." He gave a small shake of his head. "I could not bear the thought of placing you in unnecessary danger as I hunted the orb…but I realize now that I was wrong."

Rosa blinked and swallowed, trying to deny the burning behind her eyes as his words affected her. You cannot believe him, a cautionary voice reminded her. She tried to channel her truthsaying gift, bringing the coy smile to her lips, but she picked up nothing. "Solas…" she said, her voice both pleading and warning.

She'd wanted to tell him everything his decision had cost her, of that spring spent writhing on a pallet in clan Lavellan's healer's aravel. Of the feverish, hazy hours Mahanon had spent with her, praying to the Creators that they spare her and…

…and she had started to believe she could and should bond with the Dalish hunter. But now Solas was here again, speaking words she wanted but also dreaded, the sort of thing she had fantasized about after joining clan Lavellan. Except all dreams had become nightmares that spring, washed away in blood.

She felt shameful tears prick her eyes and her stomach cinched, but she swallowed hard and pushed the desire to confess everything deep down inside. No. Solas had abandoned her and she couldn't be certain he wouldn't do it again. Everything he touched seemed to crash and burn. The Hasmal Circle. The Conclave. Even Mythal had died on his watch, apparently. Then there was what he'd done to Rosa herself.

"There is something else," Solas said abruptly, lips twisting and posture tense, as if he sensed she was about to dismiss him. "As you sealed the breach…" His expression was dire. "What did you see?"

The change of subject was both a relief and an alarm—and it made Rosa frown. He had not come here to whisper confessions of near-love to apologize and try to capture her heart once more. He had some other motive. Of course

"That was a little bit of a non-sequitur," she muttered at him, smiling wryly. "I knew you were up to something, flat-ear." She aimed for a lighthearted tone to disguise her irritation, but it seeped through anyway.

He winced as if she'd slapped him, blatantly wounded. "Rosa," he said, her name hoarse on his lips. "I do not speak lightly. Your life may be in danger. My only desire is to help you."

She scoffed, trying to ignore the ache of her heart beneath her ribs. "You have plenty of desires, Solas," she grumbled. "And helping me is clearly far down on your list."

"That is not true," Solas said, a note of anger in his voice as he edged a tad closer. His words were softer as he added, "Please. I do not ask that you forgive me for my actions—" He broke off, shaking his head. "I do not forgive myself for my mistakes. I would not ask you to do what I cannot. But—"

"Enough," Rosa snapped with a sideways slash of her hand. Breathing the cold, bitter air, she huffed as she frowned at him. "You came to me not to tell me the truth or explain yourself. You just want to know about closing the breach." Her jaw clenched and she bit out, "Fine. That's just fine with me. Say what you mean. Don't play games with me."

Solas stared at her, his expression creased with pain. He wet his lips and started to speak, then cut himself off and dropped his gaze to the snow and gravel at their feet.

"You want to know what I saw when I closed the breach?" she asked, clipped and sharp. "I saw seven figures in differing colors: gold, red, and green. I felt their rage and heard them whispering. When they saw me…" She grimaced. "They called me a slave and one of them stepped up to me and…" She shrugged. "Then I woke up."

He had lifted his gaze to meet hers as she spoke and now pinched his lips together. Rosa saw nothing that hinted at surprise in his eyes. He already knew what I would say, she thought.

"What were they?" she asked him. "And am I going to meet up with those…beings again when I go to sleep tonight?"

"It is unlikely," Solas hedged with a dip of his head. "But possible. I suspect you already know they are dangerous." The corners of his lips twitched up slightly. "Fortunately, I know of a way to protect you."

"Uh-huh," she said, grunting. "And what were they again? Demons?" She frowned and shook her head. "No, they didn't make me feel sick." She stared at him hard, watching his reaction as she said, "They felt like Dreamers."

Solas' gaze on her was somber and unblinking. "What they are does not matter, only that they are a danger to you because of your vallaslin."

Now her eyebrows shot up into her forehead. "My vallaslin?" She recalled the burning in her cheeks, chin, forehead, and even along her nose. She hadn't really noticed at the time, but the pain had followed along the lines of her tattoos.

"It is blood writing," Solas told her evenly, cool and scholarly. "Used to mark slaves."

"Slaves?" Rosa blurted. Her stomach felt hollow with shock and then a second later her heart ached anew. She lifted a hand to her cheek, feeling over those sacred lines. "That can't be…" She frowned, breaking off as she saw the sympathy in Solas' features. "Never again shall we submit," she said, reciting the Dalish credo. "And all this time…you're telling me my people have been marking themselves as slaves?"

Solas nodded, dipping his chin just once. "Yes. I'm sorry. I did not tell you this to hurt you, but you should know that to those who know the spell, it will be possible for them to place a compulsion over you. That is what you felt when the being spoke to you. The spell makes the vallaslin glow red as the blood is activated."

"And you saw it glow red today," she finished for him, numb as the understanding dawned.

"Yes," he confirmed and took a small step closer to her, enough that she could feel the heat of his breath faintly brushing against her cheeks. "I know a spell. I can remove the vallaslin to keep you safe." He fell silent a beat, blue eyes scanning over her face. "If you wish…"

She looked away from him, jaw clenching. "I have to give it some thought." She blew out a breath. "They might be slave markings to you, but to me it's a badge of everything I am and all that I stand for." She closed her eyes, remembering the prick of the needle, of soaking in the pain with pride as her mother worked. It was her triumph and her pride. It was an announcement to the clan and to all of Thedas.

I am Dalish. I am of the last Elvhen.

And privately, it was a proclamation of her greatest secret: I am the granddaughter of Dirthamen. His values will be my values.

"I understand," Solas said, his voice somber and sad. "And I believe the danger will be minimal now that the breach has been closed."

The memory-image of the red glowing being that'd used the spell on her burned across her eyelids again. "Slave," she heard his voice say. "Tell me…"

"You never answered me, Solas," she said suddenly, opening her eyes to stare at him. "What are they? Who are they?" Her heart pounded against her ribs like a fist.

Solas' lips pinched together. He said nothing, but the answer hung around them, like the snowflakes drifting down with the wind.

She knew from her father that the Creators weren't gods and had instead been a sort of dysfunctional, motley band of ambitious mages and war-leaders. Super-powerful ambitious mages who declared themselves gods.

If Rosa could be the granddaughter of a mage who'd been able to masquerade as a god—and Ivun, her father, had been the son of Dirthamen directly—then why wouldn't those mages feel like Dreamers in the Fade? There'd been seven of them, matching the number of Creators she knew had been locked away by the Dread Wolf. But…it wasn't possible she'd encountered them. They had been silent, cut off from the People since the fall of Arlathan. Even though they weren't gods, they must be inaccessible to the People.

Right?

"It is not important," Solas repeated, sounding stiff.

Harnessing her truthsaying talent, she smiled dryly as she asked, "Was it the Creators? Or the Old Gods perhaps?"

Solas scowled and shook his head. "It does not—"

"It does," Rosa growled. "I'm sick of your secrets!" She grabbed his tunic, her hand fisting in it as she jerked him closer to her. "Fenedhis! Tell me what you know, Solas! Tell me the truth!"

Solas had lifted both hands to her shoulders, as if he would push her away—but he didn't go through with it. Instead, Rosa only felt the heat of his hands on her shoulders and saw the dilated black of his pupils. She felt his breath fanning over her cheeks and saw his nostrils flare. His expression was tense: part pain and part…something else that warmed the depths of his eyes. His lips were parted just slightly. The memory of his taste, his touch, left her suddenly feeling feverish. She wanted to lash out at him, to coerce him into talking, into coming clean. She wanted to…she wanted…

And then his lips were against her own and she didn't know, couldn't say, who had kissed whom—and she didn't care.

All trace of the usual bone-numbing chill of Haven vanished as Rosa's blood rushed, blooming everywhere with heat. Her heart pounded and her body ached with the sudden ferocity of desire. This raw, carnal attraction was more intense than anything she'd felt with Mahanon or her first lover. It washed the world clean, burned it away in fire.

She tugged him even closer, arching her body into his. Solas' hands on her shoulders gripped hard and then dropped to her waist, encircling her. Encouraging her. The taste of his mouth was as tantalizing as she remembered, full of hidden strength and wildness. His lips were smooth and dexterous, reminding her of the unbelievable pleasure he could bring her with that talented mouth. He was not a sloppy kisser the way Mahanon and her first lover.

Her hands, fisted in his tunic, relaxed as she let herself fold into his embrace. Their bodies sang with familiarity, with mutual yearning. Her heart ached and swelled inside her ribcage. She could almost feel the thump of Solas' heart through her breasts, pressed to his chest. He deepened the kiss, bending his greater height to meet with her.

And then, suddenly, it all fell apart.

She heard a shout and footsteps crunching in the snow and gravel, thumping in a rapid pace. Drawing closer. She stiffened, starting to push Solas away, but he didn't seem to register the approaching runner. His lips followed hers, greedy and hungry, and Rosa didn't pull back with enough speed or force to react before—

"Get off her!"

Solas ripped away from her and Rosa staggered, breathing hard and blinking as she saw the intruder was Mahanon. He was red-faced down to his neck and up to his ears. His eyes were narrow slits of hate. He'd barreled into them and pushed Solas back from her, then swung with his right fist. The punch sent Solas stumbling backward, one hand lifted to his cheekbone.

"Fucking flat-ear bastard!" Mahanon roared.

"Han," Rosa said, spluttering. "Stop it!"

Mahanon whipped around to face her and she winced at the sight of tears in his red-rimmed eyes. "How could you, Rosa?" he asked her, voice strangled. "After what he did to you? To us?"

Rosa's mouth shut, her jaw clenching as any trace of desire flashed suddenly cold and heavy with remembered grief. She wanted to be irritated, to say something to shut Mahanon down—Solas hurt me, not you—but the invisible knife in her heart only twisted at the thought. Mahanon was right, and she had no right to throw his caring back in his face. Hadn't he spent hours at her side praying for her that spring? And not just for her. His prayers to Sylaise and Mythal had been for another as well. Selfless prayers.

Solas stood a few meters away, one hand still on his cheek. His brow beetled and his lips twisted, but he said nothing. His gaze was on Rosa, waiting.

"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!"

Mahanon scoffed, slapping her hand off his shoulder. His anger had finally transferred to her. Rosa steeled her spine, refusing to flinch under the force of it, though she knew she deserved it.

"How could you?" he asked again, slurring and shouting. Spittle landed on Rosa's face, but she didn't wince. "I gave you everything. Deshanna asked me to bond with you, but I would've gone to you anyway. I chose you! Elgar'nan's fire, I even chose da'assan." He stabbed a finger over at Solas as he said da'assan.

The name made Rosa's stomach clench. Her throat ached and seemed to close. "Shut up, Han!" she shouted and pushed at his shoulders, knocking him back a few steps. "Stop! Just stop! I can't…"

Her eyes burned and she felt tears spilling from them. Her lungs seemed to convulse. Mahanon's ongoing glare scalded her and Solas, behind him, appeared both concerned and baffled. She couldn't stand to be near either of them anymore.

Turning back toward the path to Haven, Rosa started running.

Solas' cheekbone stung from Mahanon's blow, but he lowered his hand away and straightened as Rosa sprinted away. His gaze followed her for just a moment before Mahanon whipped around to snarl at him and Solas tensed, prepared to fight. Mana bubbled inside him, overexcited and boiling. His lips still felt warm from kissing Rosa and his body was still alive with want—but already shame made his face burn. How could he have lost control like that?

"Stay. Away. From. Her." Mahanon bared his teeth like a snarling dog.

He did not know that he faced off with a wolf.

"I have nothing to say to you," Solas told him stiffly. He took a step toward the path Rosa had fled on, toward Haven, but Mahanon shadowed him. The other elf blocked his passage, snarling.

"You don't know," he spat. "You don't fucking know what she went through. She almost died because of you."

That was the second time this fool had said that. Solas hesitated, torn between curiosity and the powerful need to escape this ridiculous confrontation. He could try to lecture this fool Dalish man about how much of an ass his jealousy made him out to be, but he'd be wasting his breath. However, it was obvious Mahanon knew something that Solas did not regarding Rosa. But asking about it would reveal his ignorance for certain, and if there was one thing Solas—pride—despised, it was revealing ignorance in front of someone he considered far beneath him.

"Let me pass," he said to the other elf, his voice low and dangerous.

"No," Mahanon spat, stomping one foot in the dirt for emphasis. "You're going to stand right there, flat-ear, and listen."

"You are intoxicated," Solas told him flatly. "There is nothing you can say to me that is worth my time."

"You had your chance," Mahanon growled, slashing one hand through the air. "You had your chance with her and you left. She's mine now. D'you hear, flat-eared fucker?"

Solas glared at him. "I suggest you rethink your viewpoint. You do not make decisions for her and neither do I." He flexed the fingers of his right hand, preparing a spell. "Now, stand aside."

"Dread Wolf take you," Mahanon snapped. "I'm not—"

Solas interrupted him with a bitter laugh. "You are a petty child and I have better things to do than listen to your jealous tantrum." He kept the snide insult shem-elf from leaving his lips just barely, knowing it'd cause far too much confusion. Mahanon believed he was the superior one and Solas a city elf, after all. His eyes flicked over Mahanon's face, seeing Elgar'nan's vallaslin with a sneer of disgust.

Mahanon let out a croaking laugh of his own. "A child, am I? What would you know of children? You abandoned your own."

Solas froze, too stunned to even frown for several long seconds as cold seized his heart and tightened his chest. His magic coiled tighter inside him and he rethought the spell he'd been preparing, thinking he would need to kill Mahanon.

You abandoned your own.

No, it wasn't possible that Mahanon, of all people, could have uncovered that he was an Evanuris or an Elvhen survivor. Yet, that comment was suspiciously close to something an outraged faithful follower of the Dalish "Creators" would say to the "god" who'd abandoned or betrayed the People. Or just to a man he'd learned, from Rosa, who'd survived the fall of Elvhenan via uthenera.

Best just to get away from Mahanon and this…whatever this was.

"Step aside," Solas growled. "Or—"

Bells tolled, echoing over the hills. Shouts came from Haven and Solas heard the pounding of feet over the ground as soldiers and Inquisition scouts scrambled in their direction to man the trebuchet. Mahanon's eyes were wide and bloodshot as he spun about, searching for the source of all this commotion. "Mythal have mercy," he murmured. "What's going on?"

Solas swallowed hard but said nothing. He had an idea and it wasn't good. Corypheus must be moving on them now. So soon, he thought and then, fast on the heels of that: I must find Rosa.

He Fade-stepped through Mahanon, choosing not to freeze the bumbling, fool Dalish, and sprinted for the path leading into Haven proper. Behind him, distantly, he heard Mahanon shout and charge after him.

When he reached the gate, Solas saw Cullen and Cassandra talking and heard the ex-Templar's report. "One watchguard reporting. It's a massive force, the bulk of it still behind the mountain."

Josephine and Leliana had also arrived, trotting down from the Chantry or their respective cabins. Solas saw Tal and Dorian coming from the direction of Rosa's cabin, looking flushed and red-faced. He felt a spurt of irritation, certain that Tal and the Tevinter had been doing something…intimate before this, which was why Mahanon had left to terrorize he and Rosa. At the very least, it was painfully obvious that both mages were inebriated. Tal had a lurching gait that was nothing like his usual elven—or Elvhen—grace, and Dorian's eyes were glazed and watery.

This attack had not come at a good time.

Mahanon brushed past Solas, bumping into him roughly in a way Solas knew must be deliberate, and moved to cajole Tal away from the Tevinter. Solas overheard him asking if he'd seen Rosa but knew the answer would almost certainly be no. Rosa had undoubtedly fled both he and Mahanon. Returning to her cabin, while it would get her to the safety and support Tal offered as her brother, would just leave her vulnerable to Mahanon.

"Where is the Herald?" Cassandra asked, turning in a circle, her eyes searching frantically.

Before anyone could answer her, the closed gate to Haven thumped with a dull boom and a flash of light. An almost childish voice called out from beyond: "I can't come in unless you open!"

"A messenger?" Josephine asked. The others around her stared at the door, dumbfounded, until Leliana finally acted. She motioned to a soldier and he dashed ahead, opening the door with a creak on old rusted hinges.

Outside, bodies lay scattered about the snow, blood scattered in arcs. A massive, hulking man in Tevinter armor collapsed as a small shape behind him struck with a dagger, fast as lightning. He was little more than a teen with a wide-brim hat and clothing made of a patchwork of differing fabrics. He was not handsome as he lifted his face, revealing blue eyes and pale blond hair, but Solas immediately felt something in his chest cinch tight. His other senses snapped alive and, with a squint of his eyes, he willed himself to see the youth's spirit rather than his physical self.

Sure enough, he saw the aura in green of a spirit. This was no ordinary young man. Solas stared, speechless, as the boy came forward to speak to Cullen, Cassandra, Josephine, and Leliana. How long had it been since a spirit had been able to leave the Fade and manifest in this way? Since he'd put up the Veil, surely it'd happened no more than a handful of times. What were the odds that this spirit boy would come to Haven, to him now?

But he has not come for you, a voice reminded him. Solas could have laughed at his own arrogance. This was coincidence only. This spirit had come to Haven for the same reason Solas had stayed and joined the Inquisition—Rosa.

"I'm Cole," he said, talking fast. "I came to warn you. To help."

As Cole went on, explaining in fragments that the Elder One—Corypheus—had come for Rosa, Solas saw that indeed the darkspawn magister was across the valley, closing in. He apparently had no fear of death, though exactly how he had managed to become so…relatively immortal…Solas couldn't begin to guess yet.

Then, behind him, Solas heard Tal yell, "Asamalin!"

He turned and saw Rosa standing at the top of the stairs. Her eyes were red-rimmed but dry and her shoulders were erect and squared. She stared out over Haven's gate, glowering across space to the promontory where Corypheus stood, his army marching out ahead of him. Solas couldn't stop the little shudder of awe that washed through him, prickling his skin.

"Inquisition," Cullen was shouting, rallying the mages and soldiers who'd responded. "For the Herald, for your lives, for all of us!"

As Cullen's forces charged out to meet the oncoming army, Rosa jogged down the stairs. "Whoever's not drunk—join me!" Tal, Mahanon, and Dorian started to move for her, but Rosa lifted a hand, palm out, and yelled, "Not you three. I said whoever's not drunk." She motioned at Josephine. "Get them back."

"Asamalin!" Tal shouted, protesting. "I'm not that drunk. I can still cast, for fuck's sake."

"No," she growled, aiming the single word at all three men. "Stay back and defend Haven." As she whipped back around, rushing for the gate, Solas dashed after her. Cassandra followed, her sword unsheathed and her shield lifted high. Solas saw the spirit boy, Cole, standing off to the side of the gate as they ran by. He made eye contact with him and nodded, silent communication and understanding flashing. In that brief moment, Solas felt Cole and identified him: Compassion.

Good, he thought. Compassion was all too rare. Solas had seen far too many spirits of harsher natures make the transition and too few with more gentler dispositions.

They joined the battle outside Haven's gates. A few forward units from Corypheus' army had crossed the valley, spilling into Haven's outskirts. Inquisition soldiers and scouts clashed with them, shouting. The squeal of metal clanged and arrows whizzed through the air. The mages who were in fighting condition sent flames and lightning crackling over the icy earth. But Corypheus' army of Venatori and Templars tainted by red lyrium far outnumbered them. They kept coming, sweeping down the hills and over the frozen lake outside Haven.

Rosa positioned herself beside the trebuchet outside Haven's main gates, protecting the Inquisition personnel manning it. She sent Fade stone smashing into the nearest approaching Templar, teeth gritted in a fierce, hard grin. Solas flung barriers over her and anyone nearby, protecting from archers further out, across the lake.

As a cluster of Templars broke through the Inquisition soldiers upfront, Solas laid out fire mines. The first two Templars charging through it were engulfed in flames as they triggered the spell, but three more surged around them, heedless to their burning comrades. Parts of their armor glowed red with corruption.

Rosa jerked her clenched fist down in a Veilstrike, flattening two of the three—but the third evaded her spell. Roaring, he raced for her, sword held high. Solas flicked his fingers, using a large amount of mana to erect a powerful barrier over Rosa before the Templar could strike—but the sword never fell.

Iron Bull had charged in, just in time. He blocked the Templar's swing with his own enormous axe and let out a guttural cry of pleasure. "You call that a sword?" he said in his deep, gravelly voice. "Ha!"

Rosa maneuvered away from Iron Bull and the Templar, shouting out her thanks. "I owe you one, Bull!"

"No problem, Boss!" Iron Bull hacked at the Templar, who he'd knocked flat on his rump, with his axe. Solas didn't need to look to know the man had been cleaved in two. He made a note to study the Qunari more thoroughly as potential foes—assuming he survived this. Despising their religion was one thing, but understanding how to defeat them in a battle was quite another. There'd been no Qunari in Elvhenan for him to defeat.

The trebuchets started firing into the mountainside rather than the host approaching them. Snow careened down the flanks of the mountains, crushing and burying the army below. Cullen and his soldiers, amidst their ongoing fighting of the forward force, shouted in triumph. Rosa lifted her staff, adding her voice to the others. Solas, standing nearby, swallowed his own desire to join—he knew better than to celebrate prematurely. That was what had left them with so many drunken companions…Iron Bull was one of them, in fact, judging by his sloppy swings. And he'd tasted ale on Rosa's mouth when he kissed her, though she showed no signs of inebriation, thankfully.

"Yeah!" Iron Bull hollered, pumping one scarred, bloodied fist into the air.

And then a screech tore through the air. Solas' stomach leapt into his throat and he immediately flicked his fingers, setting a barrier over himself, Rosa, Iron Bull, and half a dozen Inquisition soldiers standing closest to the trebuchet. In the same instant, he saw a streak of glowing red and felt nauseous. Blighted lyrium.

A red-lyrium tainted fireball shot into the trebuchet, igniting and shattering it. Iron Bull and the other soldiers were flung away, tumbling alongside some of the enemy men. Solas lunged for Rosa, half-leaping, half-Fade stepping. He pushed her to the large rock-face to the left of the now burning, destroyed trebuchet, sheltering her with his body as well as the barrier. Wooden shrapnel flew, flicking onto the rock and impacting their barriers.

Rosa struggled against him, pushing him away wordlessly. The glare she shot him made it clear she hadn't forgotten their earlier confrontation. Staring past him to the burning trebuchet, contaminated now with shards of red lyrium, Rosa cursed. "Fenedhis! What in the Void is that thing?"

"A dragon," Solas said, watching the black creature gliding away with another shriek that made his innards congeal.

Voices shouted from Haven's gate, calling for retreat. Soldiers who'd been celebrating moments ago now ran like dogs with their tails tucked between their legs. Cassandra and Leliana had gone to help Iron Bull and a few other surviving soldiers to their feet. Their voices carried through the frozen air.

"What was that thing?"

"It looked like the Archdemon," Leliana said, voice dire and breathy.

"Oh that's just messed up," Iron Bull put in as he got to his feet.

"Is it an Archdemon?" Rosa asked Solas, shooting him a sideways look.

"No," Solas said, shaking his head. It had not possessed the malevolence or intelligence of one of the Evanuris' dragons and it had not spoken to them. Besides, if Corypheus had paired up with one of the dragons, it would have been here to attack him more than Rosa. No, this was just a beast doing the bidding of its master.

"Well," she said, wrinkling her nose. "At least there's that small mercy." She jerked her staff toward Haven's hate. "Everyone to the gates! Retreat!"

As she took off running with the rest of the Inquisition, Solas followed. Overhead, he heard the leathery wings of the tainted dragon clapping as it circled.

Next Chapter

It seemed Corypheus was only really here to yack at her—though what he said next froze her with shock.

"I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the Empire in person. I found only chaos and corruption, dead whispers." Rosa gawked even through her pain, her body flushing both hot and then cold. Dead whispers…

We are here. We have waited. We endure.

…those whispers?!

Endnote: Yes, Rosa. Those whispers indeed! Just in case anyone else is like my beta who thought I made those whispers up, BTW, those whispers are canon. You find them mentioned in a little note in Here Lies The Abyss, "Whispers written in red lyrium."

This chapter is a bit shorter than many of the others for this story because this was the best spot to break it before Part 2. There's actually three parts. The angst train is really in for Part 3, BTW. There's a certain revelation (two of them actually) that will happen that chapter and have been MUCH anticipated. I'm teasing it hardcore this chapter, though. KiraChan, hopefully you don't think Solas is inexcusably dense. Honestly I think Rosa's surprise isn't on his radar at all, hence his thinking when Mahanon said what he said here. I think he's quite self-absorbed a lot of the time too. Like the scene I wrote her about Cole. Solas immediately thinks this spirit boy is here because of him...and then he realizes oops, no, Cole showed up because of Rosa. That felt really accurate to me there. He is Pride, after all.

Many thanks to Sutet! I hope you didn't cry too much for this chapter! The more emotionally gutting one is still to come, actually. Next chapter is just about all action. I break so much canon with it, too! *cackling* Oh, how I do so ADORE canon-breaking!

I'm on chapter 20 now. Couldn't write much the last week or two, but I will try to get some more done this weekend to get a better lead on you guys.