.19.
-What we pay for past deeds-
.x.
Boone stood near the stables at the farm. It wasn't the idyllic, comforting version of her once-home — no, this was the field of a slaughter, bodies strewn across the yard between house and gate. She knew that where she stood now, to cast her eyes downward would remind her of a terrible, undeniable loss, but there was a compulsion to do so, one that she struggled against. She was on the verge of losing when the sound of her name pulled her head around.
Solas stood at the threshold of the small house, as though he'd just arrived through the eluvian. He wore the burnished armor he'd worn all those months ago, when he'd first appeared here.
"Is this a dream?"
He nodded slowly. He bore a countenance of deep remorse, bringing into severe relief every line and every crease of his face, and it was then she knew that what lay at her feet was not just a dream. It was a memory. Her lips parted, a low keening moan escaping from between them. He crossed the distance between them with swift strides, arms going around her and she collapsed into them, letting him take her weight. Together they sank to the ground. Her fingers pulled at the wolf pelt on his shoulder; she turned her face to it, feeling the fur dampen with her tears as she wept.
"Evelyn," he whispered against her hair, cradling the back of her head, clutching her closer. She cried until she couldn't, until her head throbbed, until she had nothing left. And as the waves of grief ebbed, other thoughts crept in, quietly insidious, thoroughly invasive.
She said, lips moving against the fur of the wolf pelt, "You were one of the Evanuris."
He didn't stiffen as she expected him too. Instead she felt his breath leave him in a deep, hollow sigh. "Yes."
Once upon a time, she knew, she would have felt anger. She would have railed at him, shouted at him, perhaps even lashed out at him. She would have been strangled by knotted tendrils of her own furor, helpless yet again beneath the tossing waves of a chaos she was always subject to but could never control. Things had changed. What she felt now was strangely inexplicable, a faint stirring of emotion easily ignored.
"Geldauran told me other things," she ventured softly.
"Yes," Solas said, his voice hardening to keen edge. "He would."
She pushed herself away from him. He caught her by the elbows, unwilling to let her withdraw fully. She didn't fight. She no longer had the will to. His eyes scanned her face with an almost frantic intensity, whether seeking confirmation or denial, she was unsure.
She asked, "How much of it was truth?"
"Too much," he replied, dropping his gaze and shaking his head slowly. "Far too much. I was— I was younger. I was arrogant, filled with an unwarranted sense of importance and pride. I was a fool."
"Does that excuse it?"
"Of course not!" His eyes snapped back to her face. "Nothing could excuse that way of thinking, those lines of action. But I understood that, eventually, and I gave everything I was into shaping the world in something better, into anything better! Evelyn," he implored, his hands sliding up to her shoulders. His fingers tightened; even though this was a dream, she could feel his fingertips imprinting into her flesh. "You must know that what truths he told you were intermingled with lies. It's what he does. It's who he is."
"I know," she said. "I know." And she did. But Geldauran had a cunning mastery over words, was capable of weaving them into unavoidable barbs that pierced true and deep. She was riddled with the wounds from those barbs still.
Boone's gaze wandered, drawn inexorably back to the place where Thom and Movda lay. It was the same in this dreamscape as it had been in reality, their corpses stained with blood, marked with wounds, too many wounds. She spoke, her voice failing with every word she spoke until it was nearly silent, "Will you take care of them? Bury Thom, please, somewhere on the coast. Near trees, close enough to hear the sea. And Movda," here she paused, swallowing hard, "… she always said she wanted to be burnt. Scatter her ashes near the farm, near Thom. They should… they need to be close to each other."
His hand found her cheek, palm cupping, fingers gently curving, offering a comfort she desperately needed. "They've already been retrieved. I would not let them lay there, forgotten."
Her eyes closed. "Thank you."
"When you've returned you can choose where they should lie. Whatever you wish we will create for them, a tomb, a memorial —"
"I won't be returning, Solas."
"You will. I will find you."
But she shook her head. His hand dropped away, his brows furrowing with worry, with confusion. She said, "He intends to use me to cripple you. You already knew that. He's going to cripple me too, in all the ways that are left. He's already started."
"What has he done?" His hands were on her again, running over her sides, her arms, as though whatever wounds she may have sustained would be evident in a dream.
"No," she said, catching at his hands. "Not like that. He's killed people. Farmers. Tortured some. He made me watch." Haggard emotion stunted her words. His hands turned, fingers twining with hers and squeezing. She watched as silent fury tightened the set of his jaw, corded the muscles in his neck. She continued softly, "He's going to keep doing it, because it hurts us both, you and I. And when he decides it's enough, he'll kill me."
"I won't —"
"A part of me wants him to."
"Do not say that, Evelyn, please."
"Most of me died with them — you know that, Solas. They were everything I loved most, everything that made sense, everything that mattered. What am I without them?"
"You know what you are." He caught her by the upper arms, pulling her to him once more. "You are everything to me."
"Everything," she murmured, head resting against his shoulder. "How can that be, when you couldn't even mention Geldauran to me? To anyone?"
His whisper was harsh, desolate. "To let it be known that he still existed was to give him power. I denied him that, denied him his former status, denied him too the influence his name carried. The amount of fear and chaos that would have erupted with the knowledge one of the Evanuris still existed would have been unmanageable; I did what I had to in order to maintain control."
She could have argued with him, could have raised all the facts to the contrary, but she knew that to do so would salt the existing wounds he carried brought on by his own designs. It no longer mattered.
"Evelyn." His lips pressed hard against her brow; she felt them moving as he spoke. "Tell me where you are."
"I don't know," she said, adding with sudden comprehension, "He's kept me blindfolded while we ride."
He cursed softly. A moment passed and then he was moving, getting to his feet and pulling her with him. Her eyes were on the ground but he tipped her chin up with one knuckle so that he could see her face. "I'm coming for you. We're already looking."
"Solas —"
"Evelyn, you must understand. Geldauran is…"
"I know what he is."
"No." He shook his head. "You may have an idea, but you don't know the truth of it and I pray you never do." He paused. He was distraught, she realized, beyond anything she'd ever seen from him before. There was something unfamiliar in his eyes, a flickering blackness that was rising, and as his fingers fastened about her hand and tightened she realized what she was seeing was fear.
"I cannot lose you," he whispered. "I will not."
He kissed her. She leaned into it, leaned into him, gripping the wolf pelt as she did so. It was so easy to forget the hurt and the guilt and the pain when he held her like this. It was so easy to push the merciless truths aside, to lose herself in this sensation of absolute adoration and need. She clung to him as though she were drowning, as though he was the rock that rose above treacherously churning waters.
"Solas," she breathed as his mouth finally left hers, and then cried out as pain seared up her arm. It wrenched her from the dream, hurling her back into grim reality to find Geldauran kneeling over her, his fingers biting cruelly into the flesh above her elbow.
"He doesn't get you anymore," the Evanuris said, his voice seeming deeper and far more menacing to her in that moment. "Not in the waking world, not in dreams."
He stood, yanking her arm so that she scrambled to her feet with him, gasping. He moved backward, towing her, until they stood before his cot. A rough shove had her sprawled across it; she twisted over onto her back, trying to rise. He pushed her back down.
"My bed is yours now, Evelyn." There was touch of caustic courtliness in his tone. "We can't have him visiting you every night."
She struggled. He forced her into submission by inflicting pain, wrenching her arm over head, fingers tightening around her wrist until they pressed against bone. She caught her breath, keeping a whimper clenched between her teeth as he lowered himself onto the cot, straightening out beside her.
"I already told you, you have two choices," he reminded her gently. "You can do as I say or you can suffer."
On her back, she stared over at him through eyes that watered. Bit by bit he loosed his crushing grip. He shifted, pillowing his head on one arm, lifting the other as though to drape it over her. She stiffened. Even in the dimness she could see his lips curve in a sardonic smile. "No desire for a comforting embrace?"
Boone said nothing. He did touch her, though not in the manner she feared. He laid his fingers across her wrist in a way that would allow him to grasp quickly, if the need arose. "In case Fen'Harel dares to pay you another dream visit," he explained.
Her eyes focused upon the tent's roof. Silence fell, broken only by the sounds of their mingled breathing. She was uncomfortably aware of him beside her, of the line of his leg pressed against hers. The cot was barely enough to hold them both.
"Sleep," he told her. He sounded amused, likely aware as he was of her every miserable thought. "Morning comes swiftly."
.x.
Life with the Mien'Harel fell into an unwanted rhythm for Boone. They rode without fail for long hours each day, rising before the sun, often making camp at dusk. Boone was always blindfolded while they traveled, her mount always ponied either by Geldauran or someone of his choosing. The nights she dreaded most, when she would have to lay beside her captor and struggle to find the mercy offered by sleep. He suffered no such issue, capable of falling asleep easily, always with one hand upon her in order to wrest her from any dreams Solas may create. Her nervousness was amplified by a terrible expectation she struggled to keep at bay but could not help but dwell on. Geldauran was intimately aware of her fears in that regard, aware that his proximity and touch at night could easily become something far worse. He tortured her with it, with smiles that were softly sinister, by letting his breath fan across her skin as he slept, by ensuring that some part of his body was always pressed lightly against hers. She knew that one of his goals in this was to keep her bewildered; that he despised her was without doubt, but at night, when they were alone, there existed a perpetual insinuation that something else hovered very near and that he could act upon it at any given moment.
Mornings provided a different type of torment. She was never certain, when they broke camp and began to ride, if this day would bring another massacre. This too was a part of the hell Geldauran had devised for her, to leave her imprisoned within a continual state of dread. Some days were uneventful. On other days, often when they stopped riding before the sun had set, he would lead her to some relatively isolated spot and read to her from her own journal. She learned to phase out his voice, somewhat, to block the words he recounted to her aloud with mock depth and emotion, words she herself had written years before. That he derived a deeply sadistic form of satisfaction from reading every personal, unspoken secret and thought she'd had in her time as Inquisitor was evident.
Boone counted the days as they passed. On the sixteenth, there was a break in routine. When it came to mount, she waited patiently at Hob's side for Geldauran to blindfold her. He did not, instead mounting his own horse and looking down at her with one eyebrow raised expectantly. Boone refused to voice her obvious questions, instead slipping her foot into the stirrup and pulling herself up. Once seated, Geldauran nudged his own mount into a trot, pulling Hob along. She had not been blindfolded this time and she looked around, noting that nobody was bothering to take down the camp. An escort of less than a dozen riders escorted them wherever they were going. It was barely dawn, still too dark for her to make out much in the way of identifiable landmarks. Squinting, she thought she could see the looming outline of mountains to the right.
They'd been riding long enough for the sun to have fully risen before she could finally contain her curiosity no further. "Where are we going?"
"Sightseeing," was Geldauran's glib response. She scowled, averting her face but not quick enough to escape his sidelong glance. Unseen by her, his face creased with a smirk.
Gradually their path began to incline. They were entering the rolling foothills that eventually gave way to the mountains Boone had noticed earlier, now backlit by the sun. If there was a clear trail they followed, she couldn't see it, but the Mien'Harel navigated the forested hillsides with alacrity and ease. As the hours passed it became obvious that the weather would hold clear. Riding through scattered rays of sunlight that penetrated the canopy of new spring leaves, listening to the call and answer of birdsong, Boone found herself fighting against a false sense of contentment. How many times had she and Thom ridden across Ferelden and Orlais in settings just like this? How many times had they journeyed in silence, every now and then glancing at each other, sharing the smiles of easy familiarity? Prompted by fond memory, Boone's eyes drifted sideways as though to find Thom there. Instead they encountered the profile of Geldauran, a dire reminder of just how much had changed.
With Hob walking a couple of paces behind his mount, Boone was able to study the last of the Evanuris without drawing attention. Her curiosity had been suppressed under a fog of grief and anger previously. In the bright light of morning, Geldauran's profile was one of regal refinement; it was not dissimilar, she realized, from that of Solas. For the first time since she'd encountered him, the Evanuris had foregone his braid and unbound, his black hair fell nearly to his waist. He wore his dark leather armor comfortably, as though it were a second skin, and she could only assume he'd wield his weapons with the same kind of ease. She could not help but wonder what he had looked like thousands of years ago, when he'd ruled with impunity as a pitiless god-king.
As though sensing her quiet scrutiny, Geldauran checked his horse slightly, allowing Hob to catch up. He turned his head to look at Boone, and rather than avoid his gaze she met it straight on. In the light of the sun his pale eyes had darkened, and she read plainly the amusement glinting within them. "Is there something you wish to ask me, Evelyn?" he asked.
There were many, many questions she could have asked, but she opted for repeating one she'd already asked hours earlier. "Where are we going?"
"Patience," he chided. "We'll be there soon enough."
As they proceeded further, the forest gradually gave way to rougher, rockier terrain. Still they climbed, traversing a wide ridge. As Boone looked around she realized they were higher than she'd anticipated, and judging from what lay ahead, they'd go higher still. Eventually the ridge narrowed to the point where they could only proceed in single file. Geldauran tossed Hob's reins to Boone, accompanied by a warning glance. She took control of her own mount for the first time since being taken by the Mien'Harel. Thoughts of escape, though present, were immediately discarded — there were too many who could pursue her, and her unfamiliarity with the terrain would undoubtedly prove disastrous. Their pace slowed eventually as the ground beneath them rose sharply and the horses had to pick their footing carefully. Their path became a winding one with a rocky, impassable hill on one side and sheer ledge on the other. Boone made a pointed effort not to look over the edge, determinedly keeping her eyes fixed on the back of the Elvhen rider in front of her.
They continued on for hours, until the sun was past its midpoint in the sky, before the line of riders proceeding her came to a halt. She reined Hob in and the big gelding, unaccustomed to this type of physical exertion, slowed immediately, dipping his head and breathing hard. A hand on her knee startled her; she looked down to see Geldauran, already dismounted.
"We're nearly there," he told her. "From here, we go on foot."
She swung her leg over and slid down. Her body no longer hurt the way it had initially after these long rides; she'd once again grown accustomed to it. Geldauran issued a brief order to his men before beckoning for Boone to follow him. They'd stopped on a wide jut that had just enough room for the group to loosely assemble. Geldauran's path took he and Boone upward yet again, their route taking them up an embankment so canted that they had to at points proceed using hand and foot holds. After reaching the top Geldauran knelt and offered her his hand and with only a momentary deliberation, she reached up and took it. He pulled her the rest of the way, helping her to her feet, and when her breathing had slowed enough that she was able to give some attention to her surroundings, Geldauran spread an arm out wide.
"Observe," he said.
From where they stood, they had an uninterrupted view of a miles long, miles wide valley cradled between looming mountains. The valley had, at one point in time, been covered in thick forest. Now it was a barren, scorched wasteland pocked by massive craters that spread out in an almost linear line down the length of the valley. Near the center of each crater the ground was darker than pitch. All trees within the vicinity of the craters were blackened and bare and had been knocked completely over in a considerable radius, as though laid flat by an explosion. Boone took a step closer to the ledge, frowning as she wondered what exactly what happened to wreak this manner of devastation. And then it hit her, a murmured exclamation escaping her lips. She turned her head to look at Geldauran for confirmation.
He nodded, gesturing to the valley below with one hand. "This is where Fen'Harel tore apart the Veil."
She looked out across the open expanse again. The power that had ravaged the landscape was of a scope beyond her comprehension. She'd never seen anything like it, not even when dealing with the aftermath of the rifts when she'd been Inquisitor. She tried to envision the tearing of the Veil, the flames and the chaos, the denizens that had poured forth once it had fallen.
Geldauran stepped up beside her. "There is something very few people realize, something I think will endear Fen'Harel to you even more." He paused, eyeing her sidelong. "Rather than destroy the Veil entirely at once, he chose to split it slowly, bit by bit, like taking apart a seam."
As he spoke, Boone's eyes tracked the procession of the craters on the valley floor. Geldauran continued, "Had he proceeded as he'd originally intended, the resulting collision of arcane forces between one world and the next would have had a cataclysmic effect upon the whole of Thedas. By taking it apart as he did he minimized the destruction a great deal, limiting the flood of demons and ensuring that the world survived the process somewhat unscathed."
I would have entered the Fade, using the mark you now bear. Then I would have torn down the Veil. As this world burned in the raw chaos I would have restored the world of my time… the world of the elves. Solas' words returned to her, an unwanted echo from a decade past. She had believed him then, had heard the saddened resolution in his voice as he'd turned from her. The aftermath of the dissolution of the Veil had wreaked havoc across Thedas in the form of demons and afterward, the Mien'Harel. But it had not led to the obliteration Solas had referenced, the obliteration she'd believed was inevitable — because he'd for some inexplicable reason changed his mind.
Geldauran was watching her. "Do you understand now the full extent of your influence upon him? He would have been better suited in his plans to lay waste to the world. He could have rebuilt the Elvhenan without interference from any other race, from any other nation, from wars and politics. But he chose otherwise." He took a step toward her, his narrowed eyes speculative. "What was said between the two of you in the Crossroads to change his schemes? What supplication did you make to alter the course of a decision that had been four thousand years in the making?"
Boone shook her head. There was no point in dissembling — anything she didn't say he'd force from her through pain. "I begged him not to. You already knew that. I told him there had to be another way. He insisted there was none."
"And what else?"
She spread out her hands, attempting to convey to him that the answer he sought didn't exist. "When I realized that there was nothing I could say or do to divert him, I told him to send me back. And he did." Geldauran's eyes narrowed further and she instinctively backed a step, saying quickly, "Whatever his reasons for this," she gestured to the valley below, "it had to have been more than just me."
He considered her without speaking for a long span of moments. "You truly believe that," he finally said.
"What else am I to believe? He tore the Veil down. He warred upon Ferelden." She was unable to keep the taint of bitterness from her words. These were old memories, old wounds. She turned her head to look back out over the scorched valley. He stepped up beside her, and together they surveyed the devastation that had been wrought ten years ago in silence.
"Come," the Evanuris said eventually, touching Boone's shoulder as he turned. She complied, following him back to the embankment, the Mien'Harel waiting below.
.x.
The ride back to camp was a long one, and it wasn't until after dark that they arrived. At first Boone drifted in thought, mulling over all the revelations revealed to her in recent days, contemplating too old knowledge that she now viewed in a very different light. Eventually her thoughts gave way to weariness and she dozed off and on, the reins of her horse once again secure in Geldauran's grasp.
When the light of the camp's numerous fires became visible, Boone roused enough to realize that the camp was in the same location it had been this morning — an anomaly, considering the Mien'Harel's ability to escape the eyes of those looking for them relied largely on their mobility. She nudged Hob with her heels, prompting him to surge ahead just enough to match pace with Geldauran's mount.
"Camp hasn't moved."
It was both a statement and a question. Geldauran didn't bother to spare her a look. "You're most observant."
She stared hard at him. There was a reason for this, she was certain of it. And she was doubly certain that whatever that reason was, it would not bode well at all. He ignored her, guiding both their mounts into camp and swiftly dismounting once halted. Boone followed suit, watching him with her brow furrowed. He paid her no regard, striding toward the largest fire, greeting his people in his own tongue. As always, there was someone present to lead Hob and Geldauran's mount away. The elvhen moved all around her, never stopping to interact. It was isolating by design, but it suited her all the same. She found her way to Geldauran's tent, lifted the flap, and slipped inside.
By lamplight, she ate a small repast from the sparse selection of fruit just past its prime arranged on the table before she opted to try and sleep. The wooden pallet was no longer present, had not been present since the evening she'd dreamed of Solas. There was only the cot she shared with Geldauran, and she reluctantly laid down upon it. Her only hope for actual rest was to do so now, before he entered. His presence was far too disconcerting for her slumber to be anything other than fitful. She laid on her side, facing the tent wall, and closed her eyes tightly. Sleep, she ordered herself. Sleep to rest, sleep to forget.
And somehow, miraculously, she did.
.x.
They were both there in her dream, these men that were the closest thing to deities Thedas had known, these men that had ruled as almost-gods. It was to Solas she looked first, seeking familiarity. She didn't find it, not at first — he looked strange. Foreign. Haughty and remote. He looked as he had then, she realized. She carefully studied every detail of how he was now, noting with further surprise that he had once in fact had hair. It was styled oddly, shaved at the sides with the remaining auburn strands bound into a long tail that nearly hit the backs of his knees. The rest of him looked just as otherworldly, clad as he was in airy silks of greens and black, sporting a circlet of intricately interwoven golden threads. The expression on his face as he stared at his enemy was unfamiliar, wintry and imperious. His countenance softened abruptly as his eyes alighted upon her.
"Evelyn," he said softly, blinking as though surprised to find her there.
"Unharmed and unblemished," Geldauran announced, reminding Boone of his unwelcome presence here in her dream. Unwillingly she looked to him to find that he too wore the appearance of the man he'd once been. He stood tall and commanding, armored in silver edged with in a blue shade almost as pale as his eyes. Like Solas, he too bore a crown, his a more substantial adornment sitting high upon his brow. His hair flowed loosely over his shoulders, mingling almost to be lost among the deep blue folds of his heavy cloak.
Solas' eyes had narrowed to slits as they focused upon Geldauran. Sensing the enmity rife in the air between them, the dark-haired Evanuris smiled pleasantly. "Fen'Harel," he greeted, spreading his hands out to the side as though they were friends long parted, now reunited.
"Surrender," Solas commanded, and there was a hard, menacing note in his voice Boone had never heard before.
Geldauran laughed. It wasn't the mocking or cruel sound as she'd come to expect from him. It was genuine, spilling from him unbidden, and had he been anybody else it would have been infectious. When it stopped he shook his head, mouth still curved with crooked mirth. "What could have possibly made you think I would even entertain the idea?"
Boone was startled to feel Solas' hand on her shoulder suddenly as he stepped up beside her. His fingers squeezed, suggesting reassurance she wasn't entirely certain he was capable of offering. It was to Geldauran he spoke. "You cannot evade us forever."
Bit by bit, the amusement faded from the Evanuris' face, leaving behind only the frosty glint of his eyes. "But we don't need to evade you forever, do we? We only need to stay ahead of you for a short while longer. By then, it will no longer matter."
"Return her," Solas ground out, voice rasping. "There was no need to involve her—"
"There was every need, Fen'Harel!" Geldauran blared, and Boone watched as his control, ever present, finally slipped. The cold fury he'd harbored for eons was escaping through the cracks. It was a frightening thing to see. "After you wrested everything from us, you thought there would be no retaliation? You thought I would meekly subside and vanish like the rest of our people after you'd taken your pound of flesh?"
On her shoulder, Solas' fingers tightened. "I thought you would remain forgotten."
Geldauran's smile was an insolent baring of teeth. "That I haven't is your fault and yours alone. Not," he added with a shrug, "that you'd ever let anyone know that. Not even…" His eyes slid sideways to focus on Boone.
She heard Solas' breath leave him, hissing out from between clenched teeth. Seeking solace from the unpredictable nature of the dream and the cast it featured, she shifted slightly, turning toward him, and his other arm went about her waist. Geldauran watched, still smiling, though there was now a brittle edge to the expression.
"Why allow me this dream?" she asked him.
"I thought I'd offer Fen'Harel a final courtesy in letting him see you a last time."
She heard Solas make a flinty sound low in his throat. "I will find you." It was a statement meant for them both.
"You'll try," Geldauran corrected, rolling his shoulders in an unconcerned shrug.
Solas released Boone, stepping past her to approach his adversary. She moved with an almost unconscious tread, stepping to the side until she could view them both in profile. Solas halted an arm's length from the last Evanuris. The two regarded each other in a charged silence, and though Geldauran was taller, it seemed Solas was his equal in stature regardless. Witnessing them thus, clad in raiment from ages past, was to Boone a glimpse into a history no other living being in Thedas would ever have.
"Such fury you bear," Geldauran said softly. "Righteous fury. Selfish fury. It's as though you've forgotten what reprehensible deeds lie in your own past in your eagerness to cast blame elsewhere."
"I've forgotten nothing."
"Nor have I. Not one thing, not since that day." Geldauran's voice had altered, taking on a peculiar undertone, fraying at the edges. "You had a reprieve from the slow, crushing weight of the passing of ages. You set yourself adrift in dreaming. I had no such peace. None of us did. You've no idea the toll it took, accumulating so many memories in a place where you can forget none."
There was no trace of pity to be found in Solas' countenance, so hardened was it. "It was no less than you deserved."
The Evanuris tilted his head to the side as though considering. "Perhaps," he said. "But I endured my punishment and now I'm free. And I will have blood from you, Fen'Harel. From you both." He turned his head slightly, eyes flicking to Boone and back again. "I will claim what I'm owed."
"What you're owed." Solas echoed derisively.
"Yes. I'm owed what we found once you sealed us beyond the Veil: Fear. Chaos. Agony. Confusion. I'm owed centuries of your torment, but time is my enemy now as it never was before. So I've hastened the process of your reckoning. I'll take what matters most to you, and I'll ensure she suffers as I wish you had."
"When I find you—" Solas began, nearly growling, but Geldauran shook his head with a laugh.
"When you find me, you'll kill me. I know this. You never had the stomach or the will for torture. You'll give me a clean death. And I'll thank you for it. You'll be Mercy, Fen'Harel. I despise this life and all that I've encountered in it. It is an affront. You cannot dare to keep me alive, no — to do so would foster further dissent somewhere among your people. I have to die. You have to kill me."
"You should have killed me then," he mused, leaning in slightly until he and Solas were nearly face to face. "But I forget - you couldn't. I was stronger. To confront me would have been folly. You resorted to tactics better left to mortals, to cowards."
"It was never just you," Solas retorted. "You were never alone. You flocked to each other at the end, clinging in your desperation, so certain that one among you could save the rest. You were rodents."
Geldauran's reared back, nostrils flaring. "We were gods!"
"You were tyrants!"
"And what of you, Fen'Harel? You were just as we were until you threw yourself in with Mythal's folly, and then you made that choice. You punished us, and in doing so, you destroyed your own kind! What name would you give that evil, to irrevocably cripple your own race just to win a war?"
Every vehement word he uttered was a weapon, keen edged and directed with precision, and Boone watched as every single one struck true. Solas' face drained of color, his lips compressing so tightly they became white. She could feel his tumult, could nearly see it manifested in this dream as a dark, pestilent corona outlining his entire form. He said in a voice that had become deathly quiet, "I will ensure you experience more suffering."
"I've no doubt you believe that." The Evanuris shrugged again. "But our conclusion looms. You've lived unchallenged for too long, old friend. In all that time there was no obstacle you couldn't overcome. There is now." He turned his head, pale eyes fixing on Boone. He swept out one arm in her direction. "To think that a mere mortal will be the one thing to bring you to your knees when nothing else in history could."
He was before her suddenly, manipulating the malleable laws of dream reality to traverse the short distance in a blink of an eye. He caught her by the wrists, fingers tightening until they pressed against nerve and bone, pulling her bodily into him. Her breath left her at the impact and then his arms were around her, squeezing in a cruel parody of an embrace that she couldn't escape, though she tried. He turned, bringing her with him, until he spoke to Solas over her shoulder.
"She sleeps with me now. Her body against mine. I'll admit there's an allure there that I could never fully comprehend before, given that she is what she is. Perhaps, before the end, I'll explore it further?" He deliberately let voice lilt at the end, letting the words become a question meant to wound.
"Geldauran." Solas voice was unrecognizable in that moment, so much so that Boone managed to twist her head around to look at him. His eyes were white, a glowing brilliant white that was painful to see.
Geldauran was undeterred by the show of power. His hold on Boone tightened as he said, "I'll be seeing you soon, I imagine, but I'm not certain she will. Say your sweet farewells, Fen'Harel." He released her, shoving her backward so that she stumbled. Solas caught her before she fell, steadying her with an arm about her waist, his chest a solid wall at her back.
"Where you tore the Veil," she whispered to him, knowing it no longer mattered, "we're near there."
"For now," Geldauran said, smiling.
Solas ignored him, speaking only to Boone, his voice low and urgent. "I'm coming for you. You—"
But what else he might say was lost to her as pain wrenched her from the dream. Her eyes flew open to find the Evanuris propped up beside her, his fingers a cruel, unyielding shackle around her wrist. Disoriented from the transition from vivid dream to grim reality, she did nothing but look at him, awaiting the next terrible thing he would do. He remained still and silent, eyes fixed upon hers, the only sound in the tent that of their quiet breathing. The words he'd said to Solas to taunt and infuriate were hanging in the air between them and she was afraid to blink, afraid to move.
Finally he spoke. "You don't appear thankful that I gave you the opportunity for a final farewell."
She replied, mouth dry, "I'm not."
One corner of his mouth tilted up. "Ungrateful. And after all I've done."
His fingers loosed their hold as he transferred his touch, his fingers grazing a stray tendril of hair at her brow. She stiffened, watching as his face creased into a bright and gentle smile, the type of expression lovers would share were it not for the faint trace of mania hidden underneath. Geldauran's deceptions were layered and many. Even now, after everything, Boone could not be certain if any of his words and moods were genuine. The only certainty she had was that he meant to inflict pain and would enjoy it.
The promise of that pain was in his touch, as his fingertips traced the curl of her hair down the side of her face. His eyes followed the path his fingers had taken, pausing as they brushed the shell of her ear. She knew why he lingered there - it was the one obvious difference between them, between elf and human. His eyes flicked from her ear to her face, and when he began to move again her hand clamped around his wrist.
He tilted his head, mockingly inquisitive. "Have I overstepped my bounds?"
He read the answer in fearful set of her jaw, in the wideness of her eyes. That he liked what he saw was evident; laugh lines creased the corner of his mouth. "Very well, Evelyn," he said after a moment, rolling onto his back as she released her hold on him. "I'll leave you to what I'm sure will be a very restful night."
A relieved breath escaped her. He heard it. "I think," he added slowly, contemplatively, "that tomorrow we'll do something about your appearance."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
He did not answer.
