Daughter of Wind and Flame
By Pyreite
Chapter 9: To Choose a Side - Arryn
"I cannot", said Solas.
"You must", insisted Abelas. "Ellana has every right to ask. She is Mythal's heir. You must relinquish her spirit as is tradition".
"Mythal is afraid of her".
That gave the sentinel pause. "She fears her own blood?"
"Ellana is more dragon than elf. There is a wildness in her that Mythal cannot predict. She is afraid that she will be devoured. Her spirit subsumed till there is nothing of her left. No memory, consciousness or personality".
"So fear the spirits of the Vir'abelasan".
Solas gaped at him – astonished. "What?"
Abelas exhaled a weary breath. "The voices of the Well are quiet. They offer neither comfort nor counsel when Ellana is present. Where before we heard whispers of reassurance, they dare not speak lest she hear them. Never have they been so subdued".
Arryn snorted, shaking his head. "I am not surprised".
Solas frowned. "What do you know?"
The youngest of Mythal's sentinels shrugged. "Ellana lost pieces of herself in the Deep Roads. As she waged war on the darkspawn. She saw the horrors suffered by the dwarves without the titans. She saw the roots of the evils sown by Mythal's expansion of Elvhenan".
"She told you?"
"As you told her the truth of your identity. Your lies taught her not to trust those she loves. Mythal's lies taught her that the gods her people worshipped betrayed them. If our lives were so insignificant to Mythal then why did she enslave us by the thousands? She used us as you used Ellana to achieve your own ends".
Arryn's calmness perturbed Solas. His voice was steady, lacking anger's burn and the acerbic bite of accusation. The news hadn't surprised him. His expression was neutral, though Solas saw the lift of his chin. The way he looked down his nose as if he were passing judgement.
"I do not deny it".
"Too proud?"
"Nae", admitted Solas. "Ellana had one quality I lacked during our time together in the Inquisition. Centuries later, after everything she has endured. She is still the same even if she looks different. I did not expect that".
Abelas was suspicious. "What quality?"
"Honesty. She once said that she loved me. She spoke the truth though I walked away from her and the life we could have had together. Dragons are too proud to lie, yet I did not see the connection at the time. Now I fear that her blood is proven".
"It is".
"You saw her change, Abelas?" called Arryn.
"I did. She is a child of wind and flame. A daughter of Mythal's lineage. Ellana can take the form and shape of a dragon, though her scales are silver not red. There is something else".
"What did you see?" asked Solas.
Abelas recalled her clothes, skin, hair and horns aflame. The fire scorching. The brightness blinding. Such sympathetic magic wasn't supposed to burn like real flame. Yet the veilfire had set her ablaze like a living torch.
"Ellana burns when she shifts".
"What colour is the flame?"
"Green".
Solas exhaled a shaky breath. "Veilfire".
"Vin".
The silence that followed alarmed Arryn. Solas ashen-faced and trembling, gripped his blankets with bone-white fingers. Abelas was as silent as the spirits of the Vir'abelasan. His face grim, the line of his jaw tense. He had never seen them so uneasy.
"What is it?"
Solas shared a look with Abelas. Arryn saw a moment of understanding pass between them. Abelas nodded. Solas sank back into his pillows, dismayed by the turn of events. His shoulders slumped under the weight of his responsibilities. A burden he'd feared Ellana had come to claim from him.
"Hahren?"
"We never attributed the signs to Ellana", explained Abelas. "A coincidence we thought when she survived tragedies that would have killed another. Yet each time she returned alive as if her fate were guided by the hand of a god. Aboveground or below, her steps have shaken the world down to its foundations. She is the harbinger of change Felassan foresaw in his dreams as a child".
"Truly?"
"Vin", confirmed Solas. "Felassan warned me of her coming. The Prophet's Herald, the Bright Hand, the All-Mother's Heir. The child of wind and flame, scion of the dragons of Thedas. The Light in the Darkness. The Keeper of Souls".
"Keeper?"
"Veilfire is a type of sympathetic magic. A memory of fire that burns without fuel. We see the flames, feel the fire's heat but are never burned. If the Fade reflects the dreams of the living than veilfire has the shape and form of something that was once real. Dalish elves called the leader of their clan – Keeper".
"Ellana is Dalish", stated Arryn. "Fenedhis. To keep souls or recover them. I do not like either thought. Do you think she left Urthemiel's protection on purpose?"
Abelas averted his eyes when Solas looked his way. He was reluctant to convey Ellana's message. The content of which was upsetting. She hadn't attempted to bribe him or tried to curry favour. She'd made an offer that'd come with several conditions.
"Ma falon?" coaxed Solas.
He capitulated with a sigh. "Ellana survived the Taint".
Arryn blanched. "What?"
"It is true", affirmed Abelas. "She bears the scars of fighting the darkspawn. Her arms are covered in bite marks. I recognised the size, shape and width of many. All were consistent with marks left upon the bodies of the sentinels bitten by darkspawn".
Solas sucked in a shaky breath. "She was blighted?"
"Till her dragon's blood awakened. It burned out the infection, leaving her as she is now. The darkspawn that held her captive were incinerated. If Ellana is immune than her blood could be used to develop a curative. But we would need her cooperation, I doubt she will be forthcoming otherwise".
"Not if you wanted to live. I suspect she would kill if provoked".
"Vin".
Solas recalled her frightening steel-strong grip. The scorching heat of her touch. The painful dig of her claws. That she'd let him go at Cole's urging had been a miracle. She had wanted to kill him.
For the first time in centuries he was afraid. "How do you propose we gain her favour?"
"She was drawn to the surface by instinct", said Abelas. "She is half-dragon. Why else do you think she came all this way without Urthemiel? She sought to escape both him and his host so that she could search aboveground. That is why she is here".
Arryn came to a startling conclusion. "To find a mate".
"Vin".
They shared an uncertain look then regarded Solas with expectation. The host of Mythal's spirit blushed to the roots of his hair. He was red-faced when Arryn inclined his head like a curious mabari. The arch of a russet eyebrow made him squirm. Solas was certain that he was mad.
"You cannot be serious".
Arryn shrugged. "You are in love with her".
"That is beside the point!"
"Ellana is your heart".
"Two centuries ago we were at war!" hissed Solas. "We saw each other not three hours ago for the first time in decades! She tried to strangle and burn me alive! Or do you not see the outline of her hand upon my throat? If not for Cole I doubt she would have let me go or bothered to heal the burns she inflicted!"
Arryn ducked his head, feeling ashamed of himself. "Ir abelas, Hahren".
"What you have suggested is foolish. Ellana would never consider me a potential match".
It was then that both elves realised how quiet it was. They gazed at Abelas, noting their companion's flushed face. He couldn't quite meet their eyes. Solas' brow furrowed. Arryn was intrigued.
"What have you done?"
Abelas capitulated with a sigh. The guilt too heavy a burden to bear. "I told Ellana about the blighted sentinel elves in Uthenera. I asked if there was a cure. She did not answer, so I made her an offer".
"What kind of offer?" demanded Solas, his voice tight.
"Myself in exchange for her help".
Arryn gaped at him, more astonished than scandalized. "Mythal's teats". He glanced at Solas, paled and closed his mouth. The face of Mythal's host was calm as the surface of a lake on a bright sunny day. Yet his eyes blazed with blue-white fire.
Each iris enveloped in flame.
"Did she accept?" growled Solas like a wolf bearing its fangs.
Abelas flinched when he snarled – "Speak!"
The sentinel elves were quiet. The tension palpable. Those loyal to Solas lingered round the firepit closest to the central tent. Those loyal to Niall were further away preparing for Ellana's return. Neither faction spoke to one another, exchanged words or pleasantries.
Their camp was silent till Abelas stumbled outside.
A sentinel calling out to him, froze upon seeing his face.
Abelas swallowed his tattered pride, lifted his chin and walked across their encampment. He ignored the startled gasps. The looks of horror. The pain in the bruised socket of his left eye - bearable. The taste of blood from his split lip a testament to his courage.
Not one of Solas' people offered to help him.
The judgement of their lord clear.
It was Arryn that threw back the tent's canvas flap. Arryn that ignored the angry hiss of his comrades. Arryn that ran to Abelas, grabbed his arm and lifted it over his shoulder. Arryn that slipped a hand around his waist and helped him walk to Niall. Arryn that was bitter, angry and scowling when Niall regarded them both with concern.
"What happened?"
"Solas hit him!" hissed Arryn. "Twice! He was livid! When I intervened before he could start slinging spells! He accused me of collusion!"
Niall glanced at Abelas, noting his friend's silence. "Are you certain?"
"I am", said Arryn. "After what Solas did to him. I would rather follow Ellana. Given her history with our people, with Solas. She should have maligned and threatened me today. She did neither".
"She was respectful?"
"And kinder than I had right to expect".
"Then our path is set. But what of yours, Abelas?"
Arryn squeezed his knuckles. "You cannot mean to return to Solas after what he did. It is a violation of the vow we took to serve Mythal. You deserve better. We all do".
The leader of Mythal's sentinels exhaled a shuddering breath. Tears slipped down his cheeks, though he didn't wail or cry out. He had pride enough to weep in silence. Yet the misery was plain upon his face. Niall understood how hard this was for him.
"Oh, ma falon. Ir abelas".
