A/N: I have been obsessively listening to the Trespasser soundtrack…it's a problem. Haha. Longer chapter. Enjoy!

Chapter Inspiration: Man or a Monster (Sam Tinnesz feat. Zayde Wølf)

A Witch's Counsel

Fen'Harel leaned against the ramparts of his ancient hidden sanctuary, enjoying the teasing cool air wafting from the snow-covered mountains. It was a rare moment of calm amid the drumbeat of duty; unable to share his burden, he cherished this.

While many were scattered across Thedas, the main force of his followers had amassed here. With sentry towers rising on the bordering cliffs to guard against attack, the main fortress sat nestled in the valley, taking up an island at the lake's center. Left untouched until the Qunari infiltration of the Dragon's Breath, the valley had served as the Great Rebel's haven for elven slaves during the days of Elvhenan. Within these crumbling walls, he had taught his people the truth of the Evanuris and freed them of their vallaslin so that they could fight back against their false gods. It was fitting that his new rebellion would grow here.

He had called them in their dreams, exploiting their various hungers for revenge, knowledge, glory, and hope. While he had slept, the elves lost their nation and history, freedom and respect, immortality and culture, so they came eagerly…despite who he was. Some had found fulfillment in the current world and had no need or desire for him to call upon; Sera of the Inquisition and Zevran, formerly of the Antivan Crows, were such examples. Others he deliberately omitted, as their appetites were far too ferocious, or their spirits too set in their Dalish ways to listen; the leader of the supposed 'Followers of Fen'Harel' and Keeper Deshanna of Wycome came to mind. Even with these exceptions, however, they were a force to be reckoned with. When the Veil came down, they would be ready to emerge.

Solas sensed the ancient sentinel's time-worn presence before Abelas even bothered to announce himself.

"The Tevinters have nearly found a third Foci, but the Qunari appear to have slowed their progress," the guardian announced, his lips twisting into a reluctant smirk while he joined the Dread Wolf. "I never thought I would be grateful for the presence of the Qun."

Solas did not share his underling's amusement. He continued to scan the mountaintops, but his icy presence made Abelas shift for a moment before he caught himself. Despite their mutual goals and knowledge of what the elves had lost, the two men did not see eye-to-eye on many things. Solas' thoughts remained occupied with his all-encompassing plots. Abelas could also see the bigger picture; however, he did not trust Fen'Harel completely. He clearly suspected some foul play between him and Mythal, the goddess he had sworn to protect. He also refused to allow Solas to remove his vallaslin, despite knowing its symbolism.

"During my most recent travels, I heard something that disturbed me greatly, Abelas," the mage pondered, his tone displeased. "My agent in the Magisterium reported that a certain visiting delegate was nearly assassinated in the streets by a member of the slave rebellion…the rebellion we encouraged to hamper the Magisterium's meddling and free more of the people."

Abelas' eyes flashed a brief glare.

"Unfortunately, finding someone willing start such a rebellion – which is effectively suicide in the Imperium – who also had the ability to make the needed impression…did not mean finding someone…stable."

"How did Inara Lavellan manage to be so close to the explosion at the slave market? The Blue Wraith was to create more problems for the Magisterium, not attempt an assassination."

The sentinel growled in annoyance, earning a glance from the other elf.

"You asked for a champion, and I did tell you he only agreed to help once I informed him of the Inquisitor's involvement. His only real motivation appears to be revenge," he confessed begrudgingly, "against both his former captors and the Inquisition."

"I think this one's reasoning may be more complex than you give him credit for."

"You wanted our obstacles reduced, and she is an obstacle. Why not put his bloodlust to use and have him kill her?"

Eyes glowing white with wrath, the Dread Wolf turned on the other man, whose feet were suddenly nailed in place. Creeping stone slowly weaved its way up Abelas' lower limbs from the blocks beneath them. Sweat broke out on the guardian's forehead as he fought against showing his discomfort, but there was no fear in his eyes. There was a good reason the Temple of Mythal had survived for so long under his watch: He did what he saw as necessary and refused to apologize for it.

"Do not assume what I want. Not a hair on her head is to be displaced by this endeavor, Abelas."

The warrior gritted his teeth, reasoning,

"But is her hunt for you not hampering our efforts? The Solasans are forced to slink in the shadows because her contacts are watching the movements of every elf they happen to glance. I would be willing to eliminate her myself, if directed to do so."

"Let me make something perfectly clear. If she is killed by any one of my followers, I can promise they will have breathed their last."

"If we succeed, many will likely soon breathe their last."

"And we will save many more. I am not doing this for myself. Soon, our people will be restored. It will take time for balance to return, but we are ensuring that they will be ready. The Elvhen will become a great nation, though I will likely not live to see it." Solas sighed apologetically, his anger ebbing. With a wave, he reversed the damage to Abelas' legs. "Despite our differences, you have remained steadfast, and it is appreciated. The elven people will need someone to show them the way."

"Every time I awoke and saw how the world was crumbling, I longed for restoration," said the guardian. He folded his hands calmly at his back, unconcerned by his earlier predicament. "I disagree with your methods, and I do not think I will mourn your loss…" Solas sniffed at his bluntness. "You created this mess, Fen'Harel, but you are the only chance we have of undoing it. For that, I will stand at your side."

Old friend…

The whisper echoed in the courtyard below, unheard by its other occupants.

What do you think you're doing?

His eyes traveled to the momentarily inactive eluvian.

"Contact the Blue Wraith. Tell him this: She is alive, and the Inquisitor can help. Perhaps that will stem his bloodlust."

Morrigan cursed at the sight of the empty temple interior. There was clear evidence that someone had lived here for a time – old firepits, bits of refuse, and a few stray crates lay across the floor. But, whoever it had been, they were long gone.

The witch had spent weeks tracking clues and suspicions of her mother's fate, but the Temple of Mythal had been the only place worthy of the exhaustive trip. She had finally arrived, only to discover her efforts were seemingly in vain. As she laid eyes on the dried up Well of Sorrows, the woman realized that it had been three years since her last visit. She recalled fighting at the Herald's side and racing through the open doorway to escape the seemingly unkillable Corypheus. The eluvian was dormant now, controlled by Fen'Harel. Or so she thought.

Morrigan.

The mage pivoted in place at the Well's edge, her eyes landing on the lifeless mirror. Except now, it glimmered ominously, perhaps waiting for an unknown arrival? Cautiously, Morrigan tiptoed to the center of the evaporated pool and stopped, readying her staff in case of a trap. The voices in her head were silent for a moment, then united in a chilling whisper: She comes.

The mirror began to ripple, but no one yet appeared.

Well, come on, girl. We don't have all day.

Intrigued, Morrigan drew closer to the mirror, which continued to ripple until something emerged from its center. Curiosity getting the better of her, she reached out and took what appeared to be a simple blue medallion with a vine pattern cut into its face. She knew better.

"Mother, you always did have backup plan, didn't you?" she rolled her eyes, securing the amulet around her neck. One of the voices instantly knew the exact ritual needed for her next step. Even if she hadn't wanted to perform the ritual, she was now bound to obey. Luckily for her, for once, she did have the desire to see Flemeth again. "It seems my fears are realized. No time to waste, I suppose."

Using the eluvian to reach her next destination was tempting; however, Morrigan had no intention of running into any more old gods or their followers today. Wherever Solas' disciples were, she wanted to be far away from them. Decided, the witch turned away from the mirror and glided toward the exit. Her scheming thoughts and the rustling of her own cloak were once again the only source of noise in the temple…until her ears caught the soft tap of a boot stepping out of the portal.

"I thought our paths might cross one day," the Dread Wolf greeted, his face a mixture of pain and amusement as the mirror went silent. The elf bore no staff, likely no longer needing it with his ever-growing power. The woman took the time to study her old acquaintance, eyebrows rising in alarm. "Hello, Morrigan."

"Well, well. Fen'Harel. My, how the tides do change!" she sauntered toward him a few steps, her tone mocking. "You look ill. Godhood does not suit you, t'would seem."

His lips ticked upward at the jibe and his eyes wandered to the amulet around her neck.

"I see Mythal has at last emerged. It's been nearly three years since we spoke."

"I take it you're the reason her essence is currently pocket-sized," Morrigan quipped.

"You assume correctly," he acknowledged with a shameless bow of the head. "I needed her power to begin implementing my new plan. I knew she would find a way to survive; she always does."

"I don't suppose you're willing share that plan."

"Unlikely," he laughed, stepping closer. "It was a mistake to reveal as much as I did to the Inquisitor. She seems able to predict my plans better than I ever thought she could."

"Have you spoken to her since you broke her heart? The second time, that is. Or...was the third?"

Morrigan's words halted the man's approach. His eyes held as much expression as a stone, but it was clear she had hit a nerve. He then abruptly turned away, raising his hand to reactivate the eluvian.

"You have no need to fear me, Morrigan. Not yet, at least. There is a place in this very temple that you may utilize for the ritual."

"And what of Inara?"

"What of her?"

"When she does find you – and she will find you – what do you intend to do?"

Having reached the horizon of eluvian, he faced her again with a mild shrug.

"I intend to do nothing. She is the savior of Thedas; I am the villain. The separation is clear."

"At this point, I think the line between hero and villain is more blurred than you may think, Dread Wolf," Morrigan corrected, smirking at her minute victory when the elf's eyes narrowed. The small gesture was enough to convince her that the god did not quite believe his own claims of apathy. "I believe we will see proof of that very soon. You know that girl still waits for you, and she will continue to wait...and search. I have not seen such loyalty in quite some time…or was it foolishness?"

Solas reluctantly chuckled.

"I can see you struggling with the distinction."

"Do not underestimate that girl. The threads of her fate continue to cling to yours, and I do not believe you will be able to unwind them so easily."

"Now you're beginning to sound like your mother."

"I will attempt to take that as a compliment," she grumbled.

"Farewell, Morrigan. It is unlikely that we will meet again."

"Just remember my words, Solas," the woman commanded as he moved to depart. The voices whispered urgently. "Regardless of what you may want, and regardless of what you think you know...Fen'Harel and Suledin will meet on the Din'anshiral. That is something beyond your control."

Thank you for reading! Don't forget to follow and review! Coming soon: Letters from Varric, demons, new heroes, and more broody man-elves, oh my...