Avalanche

Dorian's beautiful halla sculpture was broken at the feet. The body was on its side, the tall horns broken, rolled aside, and hidden in the snow. Blood was scattered on its flank, melting the ice away. The contrast of the red on the white was hauntingly beautiful, but it gave Ennaly's shivers down her spine.

It seemed symbolic, but she didn't want to think about what it could represent. Would she join the broken halla, another lone effigy of the Dalish, shattered and bloodied, before the night was over?

The templars come to kill you, the strange young man in the big hat had said to her.

Did they know to attack now? Right after the Breach was sealed? They were all drained from the endeavour, their power weakened, and otherwise intoxicated and exhausted. Luckily there were enough soldiers and mages around for the counterattack, enough that managed the strength to stand up and fight.

A barrier erupted around her, deflecting an incoming attack. Bull's axe slashed through the offender, the blood mercifully deflected by the barrier too. Ennaly aimed a bolt of crackling white lighting at an enemy figure ahead.

She recognized Dorian's magic in the feel of the barrier. Thirty paces further, she could return the favour and block an incoming volley of arrows at Dorian.

They helped clear the trebuchets so they could be aimed. The sight of them firing, the giant rock speeding towards the snowy mountainside, was hopeful. The incoming avalanche buried the oncoming horde of enemies, and slowly, their torches died down.

Silence, then cheers. Could they hope that this was the end? Did they win? There were no more enemies. Dorian hugged her so joyously he swept her off her feet. Laughter. They were saved.

As careful as the hope grew, so fast did it plummet down when a giant black dragon flew overhead, blasting the trebuchet to pieces with a blast of red energy. The snowfall increased. There would surely be a blizzard before the night was over.

They had no choice but to hurry back to the chantry and try and save as many people as they could while doing so.

"Beg that I succeed. For I have seen the throne of the Gods, and it was empty," the creature told her.

Ennaly couldn't believe what was happening. The pain in her left shoulder was immense as she was being held off the ground by this taller-than-life figure, this Elder One, Corypheus, a darkspawn. From his words, he was one of the First, one of the Tevinter Magisters that corrupted the Golden City with their hubris, trying to ascend to godhood. That meant that this creature was also responsible for the fall of the Elvhenan, and the dwindling of her People.

And it wanted the mark on her hand, the Anchor, which was meant to assail the very heavens to attempt again where he once failed.

What he tried to do with the orb, drawing out the power and trying to guide it into the red glowing orb had made her feel weak, corrupted. The power was so unfamiliar to anything she'd known before, it seemed to strike at her very core. Was that what the blight was?

The creature swung her forth and released her, slamming her against the trebuchet. Her breath was knocked out of her lungs, and she was sure she broke some ribs. Her vision blurred, turning bright white.

"The Anchor is permanent. You have spoiled it with your stumbling," she heard the creature speak.

Ennaly opened her eyes. She saw the dragon looming near, the ground shuddering with each step it took. Because of the vibrations, snow fell down the trebuchet.

Trebuchet. Wasn't that the goal, when they exited the chantry one last time? A distraction, be seen, so the others could escape through the secret tunnels. And during the distraction, reach the trebuchet, cause one last avalanche, burying Haven and the enemies in a layer of snow.

A sword glinted nearby. Ennaly reached out to grab it. She had no magic left in her, no potions left to replenish it, but this crude piece of steel was something she could place between herself and her adversary.

"So be it," Corypheus continued. "I will begin again, find another way to give this world the nation – and god – it requires."

Ahead, in the distance, she saw a red flare in the skies, illuminating the white flakes.

Hope.

The others had reached the area above the tree line, and would not be covered by an avalanche. What about Solas, Bull, Varric and Dorian? They had been with her before the dragon attacked. Were they save? If they weren't, and she failed to act, they'd all die anyway, like the bodies she had passed on her way to this place.

We're dying, but we can decide how. Many don't get that choice, Cullen had said. On her terms it'd be.

She took a step forward. "You expect us to surrender and kneel," she spoke, fire in her words. In her heart burned an unquenchable flame of revenge for the people that had died here this evening in the attack. The pain in her body only increased her resolution. "We will not. You'll face us all. When we choose!"

The distraction was successful. She jumped to the side, not feeling the searing pain in her body, as she threw all her weight against the launching mechanism of the trebuchet.

Chaos ensured. The rock was ejected into the trees, and the snow started to plummet down, breaking the trees in its path. Corypheus stood to look at the end of Haven, and if he did not wish to be buried with it, he had to leave. Ennaly saw how the dragon's wings engulfed his body before it flew away. It was the last thing she saw as the snow heralded her end, collapsing the trebuchet under its white surface. Snow. She had only thought of it as beautiful, serene and silent, not cold, destructive and roaring. The snow came rolling down, she had but one chance to jump aside before she was overtaken – she jumped, there were wooden planks, breaking under her impact, and down she went into the darkness.

Her body felt broken, she was aware of lying down on a hard, wet stony surface. A mineshaft? She couldn't get up, she had no strength left. She closed her eyes, but it mattered not, because even when they had been open, there was nothing to see in the darkness.

She got to choose how she would die. Many others did not get that choice. With luck, she would die so the others could escape. In death, she would be nothing more than a Dalish effigy after all, a broken symbol of hope. Here, on the cold wet stone, she could only envy the icy halla for being surrounded by likewise creations of frozen water. She had to die all alone.

The void where Ennaly's conscience rested seemed to slowly take form. She was on her back, in the grass. Surrounding her, trees seemed to get shape, tall trees, stretching out towards a star-encrusted sky. It was peaceful. She could close her eyes again, and then she wouldn't have to feel pain again.

Because there was pain, wasn't there? Far away, there was a different Ennaly, that wasn't surrounded by the trees. That Ennaly was in pain. But she didn't matter, not here.

She was under the trees and she could remain there, if she wanted. No expectations. No pressure. No suffering. She started to close her eyes again.

A sound of branches breaking, to her left, made them flare open again. There was a wolf, emerging from between the trees. It was massive and stark white.

It should have frightened her, but Ennaly didn't give it any heed. She wanted to close her eyes again, but the wolf walked closer, its head lowered. It didn't look ready for an attack, it ears were twisted towards her, curious, careful. There was an intelligence in its eyes.

It nudged her shoulder. The touch sent sparks of pain through her body, but the pain wasn't hers, it was from the other Ennaly.

She didn't want to answer the wolf's call. She was exhausted, she just wanted to rest her eyes, enjoy the serene forest clearing. As she started to close her eyes again, the wolf nudged her more intensely. She grunted, and the grunt seemed to transcend space, seemed to echo into other Ennaly.

The wolf howled. The surroundings seemed to liquify and morph. Trees turned into cave walls, branches became stalactites. The stars fell down, slowly, dripping.

With the next nudge, the conscience of Ennaly seemed to shift around and she was other Ennaly. She opened her eyes.

Everything hurt. She was on her back on the hard floor of a cave. Water was dripping from a stalactite to her left.

She lived. After all that happened, she was alive, by the miracle of the Gods.

She sat upright. Everything hurt. Her body felt bruised. She was certain she had broken some ribs. One thing was sure: if she remained here, she would surely die sooner or later. And since the cold, she'd imaged it'd be sooner. Her staff was a few feet away. The top was broken. She stretched her hand to reach it and used it to get to her feet. Mercifully, her legs seemed alright. Or was it simply adrenaline, keeping her upright?

She took a step. That was all she needed to do. If she simply concentrated, one foot in front of the other, she could forget about the pain in her ribs, about the cold creeping up in her body. One step, another.

There were demons. As in a dream, her hand reached upwards, channelling energy towards the small rift, making it implode with the demons inside. One step, another.

She exited the cave. Outside, the winds were howling. The blizzard was now in full roar. If she remained, she would die. One step, another.

More howling. Wind? Wolves? If she remained, she would die. One step, another.

Lights. Fire, in the distance, in the valley on the other side of the hill. One step, another.

Sounds. More wolves? One step, another.

No, voices.

Shapes.

People.

No more steps.

Her head was nuzzled in fur.

Another wolf? No, that wasn't it.

Strong arms, carrying her. Warm breath touched her cheek. The scent of elderflower?

"Don't worry, I've got you." Consoling words, softly spoken, but she couldn't remember whom they belonged to.

Someone was carrying her and she was wrapped in fur. She opened her eyes for a moment. Het vision was blurred. A familiar head with blonde hair. Cullen?

A makeshift bed, a fire nearby.

"We saw her die, buried in the avalanche."

The worried tones of conversation.

"She must be sent by Andraste, how else can she still live?"

Wonder, admiration too.

Her clothing got stripped away, her wounds tended. The feeling of warm magic setting her ribs. Warm furs to heat her body.

Then, the sweet and comforting oblivion of dreamless sleep.

"A word?"

Ennaly was still staring at the people at the camp who just proclaimed their faith in her, leaving her with a mixed feeling of dread and wonder. Herald of Andraste, they called her. She wondered how that namesake ever dealt with people kneeling in front of her. Had Andraste ever been touched by divinity, of did people simply claim that for that?

Only partly was she aware of Solas, standing to the side, asking her attention. She had been overjoyed to hear that her party had survived the avalanche. They had been just out of reach of the snowfall.

"Can you walk?" Solas asked now that he had her attention. There was a serious look on his face.

"I can manage," Ennaly responded. She felt bruised, mostly, but restorative magic had strengthened her muscles. She followed Solas, him walking with the confidence and sway of a just-crowned king, her with all the awkwardness and angles of a newborn doe.

She followed him to somewhat outside of the camp, out of earshot of everybody. There was a large iron torch bracket perched from the snow that seemed to be Solas' destination. Peeking out through the snow in places where large slabs of cracked stone. Looking around, they were truly surrounded by nothing but snowy mountains, pine trees their only companions for miles around. After the roaring blizzard, the snow had once again turned to a blanket of serene silence.

"Where are we?" Ennaly asked in wonder as she watched Solas lit the torch of Veilfire with a practised twist of his wrist. The surrounding snow shimmered in the blue-green light and it was as if they were standing on a field of diamonds. With the confident posture of the other Elf, she could just imagine him crowned and robed in bejewelled fabrics. She shook the image away and in front of her was once again the unassuming apostate.

"An old an ancient highway, long forgotten," he replied. "Not much of it remains." He gave her one of his appraising looks. "The humans have not raised one of our people so high for ages beyond counting."

"That doesn't comfort me," she said. "They higher they raise me, the longer I will fall in the inevitable moment."

"Their faith is based on more than the mark on your hand, the Anchor. I read your report to Leliana about what happened in Haven's last moments. We looked, from a distance. We were separated by the dragon and chased by templars. For moments, we thought you were right in our midst, but then…" He shook his head. "We saw you from a distance, facing off to the Elder One. You have my respect for what happened. We thought you died, and then when Cullen returned, carrying you, well… We were all overjoyed."

"Stop it, you're making me blush," Ennaly replied, not sure what to say when receiving such praise.

There was a sly smile on Solas' face as he continued. "That is not why I asked you for a word. The threat Corypheus wields? The orb he carried? It is ours. Corypheus used the orb to open the Breach. Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the Conclave. We must find out how he survived…and we must prepare for their reaction, when they learn the orb is of our people."

"Of our people… Elven?" she asked, suddenly aghast. "They're going to think I was behind this after all, tricking them into believing me. What… what is it, how do you know this?"

"Such things were foci, said to channel power from our gods," Solas continued. "Some were dedicated to specific members of our pantheon. All that remain are references in ruins, and faint visions of memory in the Fade, echoes of a dead empire."

Ennaly stared at him. "So you're saying I do bear the mark of a God?" She dropped down to her knees, staring at her hand. "I mean, they didn't place it there, so I don't feel divinely chosen, but this power… Corypheus said he intended to assault the very Heavens. What did a God want with this?"

She touched the lines on her cheekbones, her Vallaslin indicating her worship to Mythal. Then she remembered the large wolf in her dreams, and dread entered her mind.

"Who's?" She looked up again. Solas had kneeled down in front of her and looked concerned. "What am I saying, I thought you didn't believe in the Elven Gods, do you?"

"I don't believe they were Gods, no, but I believe they existed," he said, his voice calm to counter her panicked one.

"Then, do you know which one?" she almost begged, looking into his face with large eyes.

"It is hard to say," Solas replied, averting his gaze. His voice lost its soft touch.

Ennaly suddenly felt unclean. There was only one God currently not sealed away, still said to wander the earth in far-flung corners. And his animal, the wolf, that she had just seen in a dream? What if?

But no, the orb was old, could just as well have been from one of the others. There was a chance it actually was Mythal's. She calmed herself.

"But however Corypheus came to it, the orb is Elven, and with it, he threatens the heart of human faith," Solas said.

"Do only you know this?" she asked him.

"I assume currently, yes, only we know," he continued. "But Leliana is very resourceful, I think it will be a matter of time before it is known."

"And then they'll find a way to blame us, Elven, for all of this, for Corypheus," Ennaly said.

"Which is why we must be above suspicion to be seen as valued allies. Faith in you is shaping the moment, but it needs room to grow."

Posturing is necessary, Solas had said when they first chatted in Haven. Had he known, suspected, then?

"Luckily, I know just where it can do so," he said, a wicked smile on his face. He raised himself again, looking in the distance. He revelled in this, didn't he? Giving her grim tidings, but withholding a revelation to the last moment, for maximum impact.

"You wicked man," Ennaly grinned, also raising again.

He looked back at her, enjoying her grin. "You asked me if I know where we are. I already told you this is an old, forgotten road. But I did not tell you its destination. We need to scout to the north. Be their guide. There is a place that waits for a force to hold it. There is a place where the Inquisition can build… grow…"

Three days, it took them. They couldn't move fast. They had to set up tents every evening and take them down every morning. There were children and elderly. This allowed Ennaly and Solas to scout ahead, ensuring their course was the correct one. Ennaly felt reborn, after having almost died. In the evenings, in the camp, she was the warm presence that gave hope to all. She played with the children, consoled the scared, laughed with all and danced with her friends.

Ennaly felt free. The skies were clear and it wasn't too cold during the day. Every step brought them new sights, a small valley with pine trees. One step, another!

Behind the next mountain was a remnant of the old road again, peeking out under the snow. One step, another!

The next valley had a stream of cold, quick-flowing water running down through it. One step, another!

During dusk and dawn the mountainsides would be painted with pink, purples and oranges, and in the night the skies were clear and the stars were bright. Every step brought them closer to their goal, closer to hope. One step, another!

And there it was. In the valley, nestled between mountains, a large stone fortress, rather forlorn in the snowy environment. How long had it been hidden here in solitude? For them, this was a place of hope, to regroup, gather strength, grow.

"Skyhold," Solas declared.

Ennaly turned around and threw her arms around the other Elf. This was what they had been aiming for, the last three days, and now they found it. There was a brazen, joyful look on her face, slightly flushed by the cold mountain air.

Solas laughed in response to her joy and they locked eyes. There was such an intensity in each of their looks. Ennaly reached out to place a hand on his cheek. She was ready to kiss him.

The look on his face changed. From happiness, it turned to wonder, to shock. He was looking at her as if he saw her clearly for the first time.

The flutter in Ennaly's heart increased. This is what she wanted. His hands were on her waist, placed there in surprise when she flung her arms around her, to steady them.

His look changed to sorrow, almost to dread. Instead of leaning in, he leaned back, softly shaking his head. His hands left her waist as if she burned him and Ennaly retracted her own hands in response.

Solas took another step back, still looking at her with the same expression of sorrow.

Well, clearly, what Ennaly wanted was not what he wanted. She'd made a foolish error in judgement, thinking for a moment that an Elf like Solas could ever develop feelings for a Dalish like her. Embarrassed, wishing she could undo her previous embrace, she was spared any prolonged gaze by gasps of wonder behind her. Others of the Inquisitions had followed them and looked up Skyhold in amazement.

Ennaly was hugged, patted on the shoulder, all were in joy that their long journey in the snow was over. Before they continued on the descent to the bridge, she shot a final look at Solas. He once again was calm, stoic, as if nothing had just happened between them.

Author's Note: I want to thank Judy for the reviews, many love!

Also, if you've ever seen Pride & Prejudice (2005) you might remember Darcy's famous hand flex. That's how I think of Solas' reaction to touching Lavellan. Also, there needs to be a Pride & Prejudice version of this romance, right, it's even in the name!