"You want me to do WHAT?" Mithra spat over the war table.
"We need you to travel to Therinfal with an attache of Orlesian nobles and present yourself as "The Herald of Andraste." The Lord Seeker won't see you otherwise." Josephine explained officially.
"No. Fuck that! I will not give that ridiculous name any merit," she growled as she eyed the council.
"You have many names, and you have no apparent problem with any of them. Why is this one any different?" Cassandra challenged with a sneer.
Mithra gave the seeker a menacing look. "Are you serious? Those are ghost stories. Folktales! I can simply disappear when I must with little trouble under those. This.."title" is far too politically charged. I will be recognized wherever I go! Shit! It's already too late for that though, isn't it?! Remember Val Royeaux? Remember how those Chantry cunts called in the Templars they thought were theirs to command? They would have tried to execute me right then and there if things hadn't gone the way they did! Besides, it's a bald-faced lie! All of my others, including Fenjosi, hold more truth than this "Herald" bullshit!" Mithra hammered her fist on the table and blew out a livid breath.
Solas peered at Cullen and was surprised to see that he looked relieved to hear her rejection of the plan. Maybe he wasn't as stupid as he looked. "Lethal'lan..you know better than anyone how these names take on a life of their own. Ir abelas, if I could-"
The door swung open rudely, and Dorian pranced through. With a smirk on his lips and his head held high, he announced his presence by simply being present. "Sorry to interrupt, but I'm here on business!" he proclaimed as a soldier stumbled along behind him.
Mithra turned to look at him, still hunched over the table with a scowl on her face. It shifted to amused as soon as she recognized him and held her arms aloft and smirked merrily. "Andaran atish'an, Dorian Pavus! Just in time to aid in the plan to stop Alexius and steal the mages. Welcome to the war council."
The soldier explained, "This man says he has information regarding the Magister and his methods, Commander."
Ignoring Cullen's uncertain glare, Dorian looked to his nails and grinned. "I do have impeccable timing...and taste. And I'm glad the value of my assistance is not overlooked! Being appreciated is such a nice change of pace." The smile Dorian gave Mithra would have made any other woman swoon, she was sure.
The ranger grinned at his mannerisms and cockiness. "Yeah, yeah...share what you know so we can get this done."
They began their schemes. Alexius had sent his invitation a few days before, so they had a valid reason to enter the castle. Mithra and two others would engage in a false meeting to arrange assistance. Dorian, along with one other party member, would join a team of agents to sneak in through the secret passage and disable his defenses, making it possible to bring the Magister into custody and gain the mages for the Inquisition. The rest of the inner circle would be stationed outside the castle, ready to respond if necessary. The plan was set. They would leave tomorrow morning to carry out the mission.
Mithra and Dorian walked together to get better acquainted.
"I didn't realize Dalish women were such saucy little minxes! Disappointed I didn't travel South sooner," Dorian joked with a grin.
"Well, we are wild little things, ya know." She laughed.
Dorian's smirk grew. "Nonsense! I haven't seen you bludgeon anyone yet! I'm sure you look fabulous when you do it, though."
Mithra laughed again. "You already missed all of that fun! I bludgeoned the seeker and kicked the commander in the head my first day in Haven!"
Dorian's eyes shone with amusement. "Well! I hope I haven't missed all the fun."
Solas approached abruptly, his eyes alive with heat and worry.
She turned back to the Tevinter mage. "Would you please excuse us?"
"See? You're not wild at all! Such lovely manners." Dorian smirked playfully as he left the Chantry.
"Fenlin! What's wrong?" Mithra asked Solas worriedly.
"Can we speak a moment? Alone?"
"Of course, but why do you look so panicked? Is something happening?" She searched his eyes, looking for some clue to his distress.
"No, Lethal'lan. But I'm concerned something might."
He took her hand and led her through Haven, holding her close as she shrunk from the crowd.
Thank the Maker she changed her mind. If what Solas said was true then- Cullen's thoughts trailed off, a little pissed at himself for having encouraged her even to consider dying in Therinfal.
Oh, Maker...at least if she did get captured, the others would be right outside to rescue her. And Leliana's people were good; they wouldn't get far with her. He imagined she wouldn't let them take her, besides. She's tangled with slavers before; she knew how to handle them.
Cullen rubbed his forehead as a headache announced itself. He was not thrilled to fill Haven with Mages, however. He'd better start getting the men ready for their arrival. They would need to establish patrols to ensure there was no abuse of magic.
Solas and Mithra exited the gates of Haven. The apostate eased his hold on her now that the crowd was behind them.
She removed her hood and took a deep, relaxing breath when they were clear. "You think I'd be used to the crowd in this place by now. Is it just me, or does this place grow more crowded by the day?"
Solas lightened up and let a gentle laugh escape him. "It's not your imagination. More refugees and pilgrims flock to this place each day. I'm sorry to say that it is due to your...reputation."
Mithra groaned and rubbed her forehead. "Why couldn't I have the opposite effect? Don't they see my horrible luck? We should spread the word, so they clear out instead."
The mage laughed again, and she smiled at the sound of it. If she could stay..maybe.. She gave him a loving glance before she spotted Cullen as they headed for her cabin. He was a flurry of activity, reading reports, and issuing orders. It made Mithra a little nervous to see him working so hard. What was he up to? Was there an emergency?
The moment the door to Mithra's cabin was closed, Solas said, "Dhuleir."
Mithra froze at hearing the name. So that's what he was so worried about.
Josmael looked up from his place by the fire, apparently napping while she was in the meeting. He rose and stretched before greeting his asa'ma'sal happily.
She stroked the wolf's cheek in a daze, eyes wide and far away with memories.
"So, it's true." Solas watched her in her paralyzed state, waiting for her to deny it.
"I was...very different.. Young and foolish at that time," she whispered shamefully.
"I feared it was you. I wasn't certain for the longest time, but when you mentioned Elgadhal...I knew."
She nodded slowly, understanding why he was afraid now. If anyone found out, they might kill her.
"Why, Lethal'lan? Why were you so-?" He stopped, unable to find the words to describe the horrors he had read about.
She shook her head as her eyes began to shimmer, tears welling to blur her vision.
Josmael cuddled into her side and whined, looking at her with sad eyes. "Don't cry.. You're going to make me cry."
Mithra sniffed and blinked before the words choked their way out, "You said you've seen my tattoos. You're a...brilliant man, well-read. You're familiar with such iconography, I'm sure. You saw why."
He embraced her then and rubbed her back soothingly. "The incomplete one?"
She sniffed into his chest. "I'm sorry. I was young, angry...and scared. It doesn't excuse what I did. If I could undo it, I would.. But I can't. I can't undo any of it."
Solas seemed to put it all together then. "You were trying to protect yourself by scaring people away."
"I feared they would come for me so I- I did what I thought I had to in order to stay safe. But they kept coming. Hunting. Looking. I couldn't let them find me."
Solas pressed a kiss on top of her head. "I...understand. But the others cannot know. They are too connected to that...crisis."
She looked up at him, tears overwhelming her big, lavender eyes. "I know...that's another reason why I have to leave when this is finished. I can't stay here, but I..like these people. They've been kind despite everything... You, especially."
He looked deep into her eyes, afraid for her. He knew it was too late for her to escape this storm he had caused. Hope seemed to be all that kept Mithra going these past weeks, so he let her hang onto it. She would likely kill him if she ever found out anyway.
But if she left, she would be hunted by 'Him.' Solas wasn't certain if she would be able to escape his wrath, but she was clever and unyielding; she would make him work for it to the very end. And the Inquisition was growing. They might be able to handle the hidden enemy, but she was the reason the organization was growing at all.
Solas leaned in and kissed her. He didn't know what possessed him to do it, his fear for her, his guilt, or her current state of frailty. It was sweet at first — a soft thing intended to comfort. The second was firm and wanting. His hold tightened, and his fingers found themselves raking through the thick hair at the back of her head. Upon his third, his craving flared, and his kiss increased in hunger. He leaned over her, needing the sensation of her lips locked with his, her taste in his mouth. It had been so long. He found it difficult to keep his passion bridled, teetering on the cusp of undressing her and taking her then and there.
He broke the kiss at last and loosened his hold on her. He looked at her in dismay, feeling foolish for what he had just done. "I'm..so sorry.. We shouldn't-"
"Agreed," she said sternly through her drying eyes.
Solas looked a little hurt by her tone, but he knew he shouldn't do this.
His expression urged Mithra to explain, "I can't do this to you, Fenlin. I will be leaving, and I don't want to hurt you. It's best if we just..pretend this never happened and focus on closing the Breach. If I could..if I could stay, I-" She wiped at her cheeks and shook her head.
His face reflected understanding, the hurt from her original declaration fading. They couldn't be, but not for the reason she thought.
He released her and took a step back while donning his mask of indifference. "You are right. We must focus on our work. There is much to be done."