Chapter 10: Old History Haunts Anew

Two days passed and they reached the meeting grounds for the Arlathvhen on the afternoon of the second day. It was a sight to behold. Tents and aravels stretched across the valley, clustered together in circles, centered around cookfires as the day grew late. From the hilly path, they could see to the very ends of the valley where the lake shimmered, bespeckled with small boats and canoes for fishing. People roamed about like ants, yet even from afar the festive bright colors were as vibrant as the sun glittering off the water.

Lavellan watched Solas's face with a private smile. She wore the Ambassador's white garb once more to mark her status as they passed through the camps. "Stunning, is it not?"

"I have never seen its like," he admitted, for the vast gathering of nomadic peoples was certainly a marvel. "Is this all of the Dalish tribes?"

"No, not nearly all. A good portion though. It's a pretty important event. Few miss it. Though some stay away. Clan politics and blood feuds are mostly to blame for that. Even then, many will set aside their differences to attend. For dance and drink if nothing else," she joked, waving him on.

"Do they know who I am?" Solas asked as they continued down the mountain path.

"Hm, perhaps. The Keepers will know you are with me. And some will have told their people. Though if they are looking for a bald elf they might mistake my uncle for Fen'Harel."

"I heard that! And I'm not bald yet!" Alarion called up to her, brushing the wispy hairs over his bald spot.

She chuckled, but when she turned back Solas's face was stony and serious. "We had best be on our guard then." He signaled to the guards behind him and two came to flank them on either side.

"Are you afraid?" she asked, noting the way he pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes, glancing around warily.

"Shouldn't I be?"

She raised a knowing eyebrow, admonishing herself silently for asking the question. "Fair enough. Though I promise you they are more afraid of you than you are of them."

"True. Another reason to be vigilant. Fear causes people to act recklessly."

"I'm sure it's nothing you can't handle."

"It is not myself I am worried about," he grimaced, glancing to her and then away.

"I can handle myself," she reassured him. "Besides, these are my people. I will not fear them."

"You would be wise to reconsider. You are arriving with the Dread Wolf, remember."

"I have not forgotten. Besides, you are arriving with the Dalish Ambassador who also happens to be the person who closed the hole in the sky, raised an army that threatened the power of Fereldan and Orlais, and defeated would-be gods."

"We are a formidable pair then."

She laughed. "Yes, I suppose so."

As they approached eyes watched them with a degree of fearful awe.

"This way," Trissa called back, leading the group.

They continued on, though the reception was quite mixed. Some came to see the god or the god-slayer, and both together produced a combination of bewildered stares and curious whispers. Small children ran forward with flowers, waving their green-painted hands to the Inquisitor, and their mothers would dash after them and hide them behind their backs.

Solas was surprised at their curious expressions. He had anticipated fearful reactions. Clearly, he did not live up to their expectations of the Dread Wolf, as many scanned the group as if searching for a snarling, hairy, oversized beast amongst the elves in glittering armor.

Lavellan noticed this as well and did her best to bite back a small grin. She too was not as easily identified without her glowing green hand, though her white ensemble did mark her as the Dalish Council's Ambassador.

A young girl ran up to her hart with a flower in hand, beaming in childish delight. "You're my hero," the young girl said as she handed the flower up to her. Touched, Lavellan thanked her.

"Come along, Ambassador," Alarion chided, beckoning her to stay in their formation, though his eyes crinkled into a soft smile as the young girl skipped excitedly back to her friends, gushing from the thrill at having met her hero.

"They revere you," Solas observed.

She chuckled. "They are children. They enjoy over-embellished stories, of which I'm sure I've been included in many."

"It is not just the children," Solas commented, glancing at the faces of those who came to stare at her.

"He's not wrong," Alarion added, scratching his chin and raising an eyebrow as a group of warriors bowed their heads to her as she passed.

"Well perhaps everyone likes a good tale," she murmured. Though as she said it a man threw himself down upon the ground in supplication and another tried to rush forward, asking her for a blessing. Uncertain of how to respond, she was thankful when Ri'vai intervened and forced the man back with a sharp word. Not that it completely deterred the man.

"My name is Jhaan of Clan Morleth!" the man shouted, jogging to keep up with them. "Inquisitor, please, I beg of you, I would do anything for a kiss. I will give you all my gold if-"

But he did not finish his sentence before a bolt of lightning zapped him when he tried to reach for her. The man swore and leapt back. Thankfully, he did not try to follow them, though that was in part due to Ri'vai's spear pointed at his chest.

Lavellan turned to Solas reproachfully. "You can't do that!" she hissed behind gritted teeth. "We have to set a good example while we're here."

"It was not me," Solas claimed innocently.

From the corner of her eye she noticed her uncle's smug smile. "What? He was being disrespectful," Alarion shrugged. "Besides, it was only a little zap. He'll be fine."

That encounter did not compare to one a few minutes later when a group of bold (and likely inebriated) men called out to her, offering to take her to bed.

"How flattering," she murmured under her breath, groaning in irritation.

Solas did not say anything or retaliate on her behalf, though his grip on his reins was white-knuckled and a muscle twitched in his jaw as he ground his teeth.

"I'll teach you some respect!" Ri'vai shouted, spurring his hart to charge at them. The men scattered, laughing as if they had enjoyed a good joke, until Alarion's chain lightning spell zapped them all and set their teeth chattering.

"Uncle," she said with a note of warning as she rounded on him, but Alarion merely shrugged.

"If they are fools enough to show disrespect then they deserve to be punished."

Shaking her head, she grew progressively more cautious as they neared the campsite allotted to them. Several more people bowed, some ran and hid at the sight of them, and others watched them with a disturbing reverence. By that time they reached the campsite by the lake, she was glad of the reprieve, leading Snowberry to drink with the other harts as the party set up camp.

"Well, we survived," Alarion said, patting his own hart and removing a brush from the saddlebag to brush her down with.

"Yes. Now the real fun begins," she added dryly. "Ah, speaking of which…" She nodded to the approaching figures as a stone dropped into her stomach.

"Are you unwell, vhenan?" Solas asked, as her face turned a sickly green color and she looked like she might take ill.

Pinching her lips together she turned to him, smiling through gritted teeth. "This might be a little awkward. Don't kill anyone, no matter how offensive they are, please," she stressed. Then she plastered the smile onto her face and bowed her head in greeting as the two men neared.

Both men were large for Dalish standards and well-muscled. Solas assumed they were hunters or warriors from their stature and armor. The elder of the two had salt and pepper hair and bore a grim set to his jaw. He stood with his arms crossed, sizing Solas up. The second man was younger, darker-skinned and wore a bone necklace of fangs around his neck. He too surveyed Solas with a look of disdain, his lip curled back in disgust.

Two of the Sentinels stepped forward to flank Solas and Lavellan, sensing the hostility coming from the two newcomers. The guard did not change anything for the two men, who continued to sneer.

"It is good to see you, father," Lavellan said, stepping in front of Solas, holding her chin up high as she greeted him. Then she turned and nodded to the other man, though she did not look pleased to see him. "Aneth ara, Varitan."

Solas blinked in surprise. There was very little family resemblance between father and daughter. She was soft and fair where he was broad-shouldered and severe. Though the crossed arms and the stubborn set of their jaws was practically identical. A cold dose of water splashed inside his gut at the name 'Varitan' though it took a moment for him to recall why. Then it came to him. This was the man who had arranged a bonding between the two of them. After he had been rejected he refused to accept her answer and turned to her father to arrange the match. The resulting fight between father and daughter ended in her leaving the clan to act as a liason. Despite his daughter's letters and attempts to reconnect, she had not heard from him since. Although he had sent a letter to Solas promising to kill him.

"Stand aside, da'len," her father urged, unsheathing his sword.

"Absolutely not. Put that away. You're making the guards nervous," she replied, keeping her voice low and level.

He did not. "No. Now stand aside. I have a matter to resolve with the Dread Wolf."

She planted her staff in front of her, narrowing her eyes at her father. "You are a fool if you think I will stand aside and let you attack him."

"He has taken your mind, da'len. I will do what I must to save you from the Dread Wolf."

"My mind is my own. As it has always been," she said through gritted teeth. "Do not make the mistake of assuming I will not defend him or myself against an attack. I am my father's daughter, after all." The air crackled with electricity.

"Enough, Haladavar," Alarion said, stepping forward. "You threaten the Ambassador and a guest of the clans. To attack will bring great dishonor on your name. Stand down. Let us talk like rational adults."

"How can we, when one of us is no longer of sound mind, twisted as she is by the Dread Wolf's corruption?" Haladavar growled, adjusting his grip on his sword.

"That is your daughter you speak of. And you do not know her anymore because of your own stubborn ways. That does not mean her mind has been corrupted. It is due to your own failings as her father that you do not know her better. Now sheath your weapon before you bring further dishonor on your clan." Alarion's harsh words drew Haladavar's lip back in a snarl.

"She dishonors our clan by bringing him here. She was raised better than to trust the Dread Wolf-"

"-She was. Which is why she trusts in her friends. Come, Haladavar. Let us speak. There is much you do not know." Alarion stepped forward, his hands raised in a gesture of peace.

"I know enough! He took my daughter's arm and her mind. How else do you explain her standing at his side?!" Haladavar roared, pointing his blade over her shoulder to Solas.

"Because I love him. And he is not what you think he is, father. You would know that if you read my letters," she snapped, knocking his blade aside with the end of her staff and stepping forward, invading his space until they were nose to nose.

"No one who cuts off your limbs, lies to you, and betrays you is someone to love, da'len. Or has the Dread Wolf taken the last of your reason? We all know the Dread Wolf keeps that which he takes. Do you even know yourself or is there nothing left of you in there?" he hissed menacingly.

His words stung, cutting to the bone, but she did not falter. Her lip pulled back into a sneer. "I am the same person I was raised to be. And you should know that love often requires sacrifice. What would you sacrifice to save the life of one you loved? The mark on my hand was killing me, father. I told you that in my letter. He stopped it from doing so. If you could have saved mother by cutting off her arm, wouldn't you have done it?"

Several things happened in rapid succession. In his fury at her words, Haladavar raised his hand to strike his daughter across the face. As his hand flew through the air, the Sentinels leapt to her side.

White hot anger and alarm flooded through Solas and his eyes flashed dangerously with magical energy as he stepped forward to defend her.

A shield spell coated the Ambassador, though pinpointing who cast the spell was difficult to say.

Alarion let out a sharp yell in alarm.

But none of it mattered. The blow never landed.

Her wooden hand reacted, closing around his hand mere inches from her face. Haladavar let out a cry of pain as she bent back his hand towards his wrist. "Drop it," she snarled, snatching his other wrist with the sword still clasped in his hand. The wooden hand pushed further back and he cried out again, dropping the sword to the ground. She released him and he dropped to his knees, wincing in pain. Kneeling down, she whispered to him. "Raise a hand to me or Solas again and I will not be able to spare your life. The Dread Wolf has not changed me in any form. I am my own person. I am the leader of the Inquisition. I am the Ambassador to my people. And I am still your daughter. Now go, speak with uncle, before you get yourself killed."

Alarion, who had overheard, gripped his shoulder and practically dragged him away.

She watched him go, matching his glare with her own leveled gaze, her heart heavy and pulse still racing.

Solas didn't care that he was her father in that moment. He wanted to kill him for raising a hand to her. His hands curled into fists, watching him retreat. It was one thing to anticipate hostility towards himself; that was practically a given. But to threaten his own daughter with physical violence made Solas's blood boil with white hot rage. "Are you alright?" he managed, refocusing his attention on his beloved.

She rose to her feet, but said nothing in response, turning instead to Varitan, who stepped closer, eyes wary. "What is it, Varitan?" she asked, a coldness in her voice, though whether or not it was due to his presence or the encounter with her father was difficult to say.

Varitan stepped forward, his eyes assessing Solas from over her shoulder. "I have heard that you intend to bond yourself with this 'Fen'Harel'," he said, folding his arms across his chest and fixing Solas with an unimpressed glance, as if he did not believe in the slightest that Solas was the god of legend. "I am here to remind you that your father has already agreed to a bonding on your behalf. I have come to reclaim your hand by right."

She blinked, perplexed in a brief moment of stunned confusion before she folded her arms defiantly across her chest. "I was under the impression you had bonded with another, Varitan."

"He has!" Trissa snapped, emerging from behind a Sentinel, an arrow notched in her bow. "To my cousin, Allendra. What do you think you are doing, Varitan? You would shame your partner like this?"

Varitan barely paid Trissa any mind, turning back to address the Ambassador. "I never renounced my intention to bond myself to you. I did bond myself to Allendra," he said, glancing for a brief moment with contempt at Trissa. "But it has been five years and our union has not produced any children. It is clearly a sign from the gods that we were never meant to be bonded. I have already spoken to a Keeper on the matter and it would be a simple thing to dissolve the ill-fated bond with Allendra when the gods have sent so clear a sign we were never meant to be. It was always you who was fated to be my partner in this life, ma vhenan."

She did her best to swallow her revulsion as his words sickened her stomach with the casual dismissal of his partner and the false pretense of using a term of endearment for her; despite the fact that they had never been a couple.

Solas did not quite know what to make of the situation until this man called his intended 'vhenan.' It was at that point he decided with complete clarity that he despised the man. Not only was he foul and indecent in all respects when it came to moral fiber, but he had the audacity to call her 'vhenan' as if she was his.

"You son of a fucking bastard! After all she's been through, you would cast her aside like she is nothing? She tried to give you a child, you sick fucking rat! Seven losses! Seven! You only want power, you piece of-" Trissa cursed him and raised her bow, but the Ambassador intervened, resting a hand on Trissa's shoulder.

"-Take a walk, Trissa. I'll handle this. Maybe go find your family and spend some time with them. I'm sure they could use your support," she urged.

Trissa's lip trembled in anger, but she sheathed her arrow and stormed off.

"Hamin," she nodded to one of the Sentinels, who followed after Trissa's angry footsteps. Then she took a deep breath and turned back to Varitan, summoning her composure. "I am sorry your union has not yet resulted in a healthy child, Varitan. But I do not think you should dissolve your bond with your partner. I have already agreed to be bonded to someone else, as you well know. Let us leave the matter be; lest we cause any undue harm," she said with a note of warning, as she was certain someone from the onlookers around their camp, if not Trissa herself, would inform his partner of what he had done.

Varitan was unmoved. "No, vhenan. Our union is meant to be and I intend to make you mine: as has been agreed upon."

"My father agreed, not I," she shot back.

He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. "Yes. But clearly the Dread Wolf has taken you, vhenan. I intend to reclaim you. I have here the signed official agreement arranging our bonding, to take place in three days. It has already been signed by your father and Clan Lavellan's new Keeper."

"What?" She stared at the signature. "New? I was only gone for a few weeks, how-?"

"-The former Keeper has retired her duties. The new Keeper was much more amenable to the formal proposal."

"But I was her First. Why-?"

"-You have been taken by the Dread Wolf. Your keeper failed you. A replacement was chosen. Regardless, it has been agreed upon."

She shook her head in disbelief. "You ousted her? With my father's help, no doubt. How could you, Varitan? All this effort when I rejected you long ago. Please, do not do this."

"It is already done, vhenan. Clearly the curse the Dread Wolf has placed you under has tampered with your mind. Know that I will treat you well and do whatever I can to break his hold over you. That is why I have come."

Ignoring her attempt to refute his accusations, he turned his gaze to Solas. "You have usurped the mind of this woman who I claim as my own," he said, holding up the signed agreement before folding it away inside his pocket again. "I demand you release her or I shall be forced to kill you."

Solas narrowed his eyes at this brazen elf, despising him more and more with each word he spoke. Especially when he used such words to 'claim' ownership of Lavellan as if she were little more than property. "Release her? She is a free woman. She may choose whomever she wishes."

"And I have chosen to bond myself to Solas," she said, cutting in and glaring at Varitan. "It has already been agreed to and it is my heart's decision. There is no curse at play here."

The look Varitan gave her was piteous. "Ma vhenan, you know not of which you speak. But worry not. I will break the Dread Wolf's hold over you and you will remember you belong with me."

It took considerable effort not to strangle him. "There are so many things wrong with what you've just said, I don't even know where to begin. Does the meaning of the word "no" escape your comprehension? Or do you simply find it unfathomable that a woman would not wish to be with you?" she snarled.

To make matters worse, Varitan actually laughed at her. Opening up his arms, he gestured to himself. "What woman in her right mind could resist?"

She recoiled in revulsion. "Any woman or any mind, really. Since you seem to hold us in such high regard."

Misinterpreting her sarcasm, Varitan smiled at her. "Worry not, vhenan. I hold you in high regard. You are not like other women. I will not stray from our bed once we are bonded. But first you must be freed from this beast who pretends to be a god." He raised his sword and pointed it at Solas. "I demand you release her at once."

"She is under no spell, I assure you. She is free to go with you, if that is what she wants. Though I think she has made her feelings quite plain. An honorable man would accept her decision and leave her alone," Solas said, a sharpness to his words.

"Ha! So claims The Great Deceiver. Your words mean nothing. She is under your spell and I will free her one way or another. Call off your guards and fight me as an equal."

Lavellan scoffed. Solas would have to fall quite far to be an equal to him. "That's what you want? A fight?" She shook her head. The hot blooded fool. "Fine. If that's what you want, so be it. Solas?" she turned to him.

"If you think it wise, Ambassador?" he said, reminding her of her position in case such a brawl would cause undue harm to her reputation.

"It is Dalish custom to demand satisfaction when a person believes the other party has wronged them. You may accept, if you wish. Clearly my words hold little sway in this matter," she replied hotly, casting a hateful gaze to Varitan.

"Then I agree, on the condition that if I should prove victorious, you will surrender the agreement in your possession and cease your attempts to 'claim' this woman. She is her own person."

Varitan looked as if he might argue, but shrugged instead. "It matters not what you ask of me. You will not win, Wolf. As the wronged party, I demand the fight be held here and now, as equals. Make peace with your gods." With that, Varitan crossed to the other side of the clearing and knelt, waiting.

Solas turned to Lavellan. "Is this really the best idea? A fight would not reflect well upon us, surely."

"On the contrary, it can really only help. You will be seen respecting Dalish customs. Besides, I can't knock any sense into that head of his. Someone might as well have the pleasure," she grumbled in irritation, glaring at Varitan.

"Is there anything I should know about these Dalish customs?" Solas asked, tightening his grip on his staff.

"Well, as much as I wish, you probably shouldn't kill him. Also, this is a fight of equals. Meaning you cannot use magic in this fight. Only weapons and hand-to-hand. Cheating is considered dishonorable and will lose you the fight even if you win. Though that doesn't mean Varitan won't play dirty. He's clearly here because he wants to fight a god like some warrior of legend."

Solas handed her his staff and traded it with Ri'vai's polearm. "And you're certain I can't kill him? The way he spoke to you…" He ground his teeth together.

"He is an ass. One who could use a healthy dose of humiliation. I give you my blessing to knock him on his backside and send him crawling away like the pathetic fool he is."

"It would be my pleasure," he said, testing the reach and weight of the polearm.

A sudden fear came over her as she looked back at Varitan, whom she knew was a skilled fighter, particularly with a blade in close range. As a mage, Solas had always relied heavily on magic in most of the fights they had faced together. A horrible uncertainty dropped into the pit of her stomach. "You will be careful, won't you?" she asked, feeling a bit foolish.

He raised an eyebrow at her, but when he saw the fear in her eyes, his expression changed to one of reassuring, calm composure. "Of course, ma vhenan. You need not worry. I do not need magic to teach this man a lesson."

Biting her lip, she nodded, though she could not erase her certainty.

Solas stepped forward. Varitan rose from his position and adjusted his stance, preparing for the fight.

"Wait!"

Solas paused and turned as Lavellan ran up and kissed him on the cheek.

"For luck," she said, almost shyly, tucking her hair back behind her ear and retreating back to the edge of the circle.

He blinked in surprise, but when he turned back, Varitan's nostrils were flaring in fury.

A crowd had formed around them, full of curious onlookers. The Dalish Ambassador's guard and the Sentinels spread out around the edge to keep an eye on things.

"Have you made peace with your gods, Wolf?" Varitan snarled, spinning his sword in his hand.

"Have you?"

Varitan glared and sprang forward, slashing at Solas, who deflected the attack and dodged aside. But Varitan was quick, much faster than Solas anticipated and he spun easily into his next attack without pause. Solas danced around him, preferring to adopt a style of martial arts that focused on avoiding attacks rather than engaging in an exchange of blows. Varitan was clearly a bullheaded man, savage and unyielding as he focused all his energy into the fight. When Solas did not return an attack, this enraged Varitan all the more.

Leaping back, he circled Solas, leering as he caught his breath. "Is this all you are capable of? You who claim to be a god?" he laughed, cruelly, shaking his head at Solas. "You are pathetic!"

"I was going to say the same of you," Solas replied coolly, letting the man's taunts roll off him like fog.

Vartian sneered and lunged forward. Solas side-stepped, but Varitan had anticipated his move and slashed his sword, sending dirt and rocks up into Solas's face. A cheap trick, but an effective one.

Solas turned his head away and shielded his watering eyes. In that moment Varitan struck, slashing upwards in a move that would have taken Solas's head clean off had he not brought the spear end of his polearm up to deflect as he dodged aside. Eyes watering and coughing from the dust, Solas decided he wasn't going to let this continue any longer. Switching to an offensive stance, he dropped down and spun the polearm out, where it clipped Varitan's ankle, sending a splatter of blood onto the grass.

Varitan fell to one knee with a grunt of pain, but was able to roll away and deflect Solas's next blow with his sword. But Solas had expected this and spun the polearm around, smacking Varitan's wrist with the blunt end so that he dropped the sword. He tried to pick it up, but Solas knocked his hand away again. The blow clearly stung, as Varitan reeled back, clutching his hand to his chest.

Solas landed a few more choice blows, forcing Varitan onto his back. Pinning his chest down with the wooden shaft of the polearm, Solas hovered over him. "Concede your loss, Varitan. And relinquish the agreement as we discussed."

Varitan glared up at him. "Never! She belongs to me. I-"

"-She is her own person. Free to choose whom she wishes. You however, are already bonded to another. You dishonor her and yourself with this foolishness. Concede before you shame yourself still further." Solas had had enough of him.

"Varitan!" A voice screamed from the sidelines. They turned to see a distraught woman with golden blonde hair clinging to Trissa. Her face was red and swollen from crying.

"Do you not see the hurt that you have caused your partner? Concede."

Varitan looked conflicted for a moment at the sight of his partner's tear-stained face, but then he shook his head defiantly. "No. It is done."

Solas bit back his disgust. "You have no honor. Go now and do not return to my sight again if you value your life." With that he drew back the polearm and turned his back on the man.

Varitan pushed himself up and lunged for his sword, only to get knocked back off a barrier spell.

Lavellan stepped forward and kicked him back to the ground, grinding her foot into his chest as she knelt down and pulled the paper from his pocket, setting it alight between her fingertips.

Varitan watched it go up in smoke, a confused and bewildered look on his face, possibly still dazed from nearly giving himself a concussion.

"The truth is Varitan, I meant it when I refused you all those years ago. Now please, do not trouble me again with this nonsense." She let the last of the smoldering paper fall to the ground, where she stamped it out before leaving him. It took considerable effort not to kick him in the balls for good measure, but she decided against it for purposes of decorum. Besides, his partner was watching and she had no desire to embarrass her further.

Some of the Dalish helped carry Varitan off to a healer and the crowd slowly dispersed, already tittering with excitement over the fight that would surely pass through all the campsites as a piece of gossip. Their guard kept a close eye on the rest of the crowd as they went back to their business.

It was rather difficult to ignore the shouting as it slowly faded away, but no one could blame Allendra for her righteous anger over Varitan's actions. Lavellan felt sorry for her. No matter what she had thought of Varitan prior to her refusal to bond with him, she had never imagined him capable of such disgraceful actions.

"Are you alright?" Solas asked a little while later as she unpacked her belongings inside their tent.

"Not really," she admitted, rolling out her bedroll and plopping down on it with a heavy sigh. "It wasn't quite the homecoming celebration I had anticipated," she said wryly, massaging her temples.

"I'm sorry, vhenan. For your father and Varitan."

"You have nothing to apologize for. I knew seeing my father again would lead to some awkwardness. I never thought he would try to hit me though." Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and she rubbed them, willing herself not to cry.

"I won't let him hurt you," Solas said gently.

She shook her head and a laugh escaped her even though nothing about the situation was funny. "Now I need protection from my own father. Oh, my mother would be so ashamed." She slapped her hand over her mouth as her chin wobbled and she felt the sobs wrack through her body as the last vestige of hope for reconciliation with her father faded away.

Solas lay down beside her and pulled her close, brushing her hair away from her face. He had known her relationship with her father was strained, but he had not anticipated the display from earlier. He put up a silencing spell and let her cry into his chest. For all his power and knowledge, he did not know how to fix this problem. So he held her and offered her what comfort he could, if only to reassure her that she was not alone.

When she had cried herself out and regained her breathing, he stroked her cheek and told her, "I love you."

She clung to his hand, eyes locked on their intertwined fingers, afraid to let go. This was her decision. She chose him. Above all else. Knowing she risked everything to do so. "And I love you," she said, though her heart was heavy in its grief over her broken relationship with her father. Pushing the thoughts from her mind, she wiped at her cheeks and refocused. "Thank you for fighting Varitan. You fought honorably."

"He did not. Though if I had fought him under different circumstances I would happily have returned the favor. Or better yet, forced him to apologize for insulting you."

"He's too proud. And too stupid. I bet he still thinks he's right. Ugh. His poor partner. I feel worse for her."

"Yes. No person deserves such disrespect."

She sighed and fell back on the bedroll. "Tell me, after that warm welcome, how are you feeling about all this?" she asked, propping herself up on her elbow.

He lay back, sighing and staring up at the canvas. "It has not helped my opinion of the Dalish. I know he is your father, but I have never wanted to harm another person the way I wanted to hurt him when he raised a hand to you." Scrunching his brows together, he pinched the bridge of his nose to repress the rage boiling in his gut at the thought.

She was quiet for a long moment. "I wish he would listen. I could convince the Council, but my father… He will only ever believe what he wants to believe. I don't know how to reason with him."

"Not all people can see reason. It is not your fault. Just as it was not your fault Varitan refused to accept you did not wish to be with him."

She bristled at the reminder. "He's just like my father. It makes sense why he wanted me to be with Varitan. In his eyes, he has all the virtues of a good partner. Except when it comes down to it, all those virtues are what make him such a terrible one. That poor woman. The devastation on her face… He just cast her aside so easily. As if she was nothing. I had wondered, on occasion, what it might have been like if I had stayed and accepted him. You saw the way he spoke to me. I wasn't even a person to him."

Solas took a steadying breath. "I know it is not my place, and perhaps it is a selfish or wrong of me to say it, considering what happened to you because of my own failings, but I am glad you did not stay with him. I am glad it was you who found the orb and stole the anchor away from Corypheus. If it had been anyone else, I can't help but fear what they would have done with the power. But by some miracle of fortune, the anchor found you, a Dalish elf intruding where she was not meant to be, and you used it to help this world. I am glad it fell into the hands of someone good and decent."

She smiled at him and kissed his cheek. "I am glad I met you. I am glad I did not give in to my father's wishes and bond with Varitan. Or someone else. I still want to bond myself with you. If you still want to, that is. Based off of that introduction, I can understand why you might feel obliged to reconsider an alliance. But I hope you do not take us all to be as obtuse as my father or Varitan."

"Of course not. I am no stranger to obstinate fools. That does not mean I wish your people ill." His brow furrowed and he smoothed it with his fingers. "Though I fear what may occur if I am successful and my people are able to return. I doubt our people will be able to live together in perfect harmony. They are… different."

She chuckled and he turned to look at her, confused. "Have I said something amusing?"

Shrugging her shoulders she leaned back, smiling to herself. "Oh, I think there's more possibility for harmony than you realize."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if our little entourage is a sample, I think we learned to get along just fine with one another. Some even became quite close, in case you hadn't noticed."

Solas squinted at her. "I suppose they handled the situation today quite well together. They worked in synchronization to keep the peace with the growing crowd."

"Oh, I think they're a little closer than that."

"What do you mean?"

Her eyes twinkled devilishly and she lowered her voice to a whisper. "Well, do you remember how Trissa and Hamin came back from their fishing without a catch the morning after we watched the flowers bloom? Well, Trissa's braid had quite a few leaves in it. And Hamin very specifically avoided eye contact with me the rest of the day when I pointed out he had put his belt on backwards. They snuck off a few other times too. I'm surprised you didn't notice."

Solas felt a bit foolish. "I thought they were fishing."

She giggled. "I'm sure that's what they'd have you believe."

"Is that why you sent Hamin after Trissa today?" he asked, recalling the peculiar request.

"Yes. But mostly in the hopes that he would prevent her from murdering someone."

"It would reflect poorly on our arrival if today ended in murder."

"I'm a little surprised it didn't. I thought there was a strong chance you might kill Varitan."

"The thought did cross my mind."

"It was quite satisfying to see the look on his face after I gave you the good luck kiss though."

"Yes, I too remember the murderous look he gave me before he attacked. I am happy I survived his wrath."

"If I'm honest, that was really scary to watch. I was so afraid you would be hurt. I'm glad you're alright."

"I am fine, ma vhenan. Though when he called you his heart, I confess, I wanted to rip his tongue from his head."

She bit back a smile. "He was never my heart. I promise you that. He only used it to try and play himself as the heroic former lover. Which he was not. Nor would he have ever been even if he had won the fight. I'm glad you won and beat him so soundly."

"My clothes are now covered in dirt though."

"Shall I help you take them off?" she suggested with a grin.

He smiled at her, but let out a soft groan. "How long until we are bonded? I cannot wait to have you all to myself again."

"I'm not sure. There are traditions to be observed the first few days and the Council wishes to meet with you prior to the bonding. I suspect that will take half a day at least. So most likely at least a week from now."

"What are these traditions? What are the expectations?"

She had touched on them vaguely before when describing Arlathvhen to him, but now he needed to know more specifics.

"Well, the first day is for meeting with old friends and family. There is typically much milling about and lots of food to be shared. And plenty more wine. The second is a day of remembrance, when we meet and share in our grief for those we have lost. You might have noticed the flower merchants about. The flowers they sell are cast into the river or the lake in honor of a loved one who has passed away. There are often songs and music, and always several prayers for the dead. The third day is a celebration of new life for the children that have been born. There are more blessings, but that day is especially fun as children run around playing games and eating sweets. There is usually quite a bit of dancing and merriment. Oh, and I should probably mention, I know neither of us is keen on lying together in a tent for all of Arlathvhen to hear, but others are not so inclined. Especially after a few drinks."

"I slept through Varric's snoring. I will manage."

"The fourth day is typically when the Council meets to discuss larger issues with the clans. The Hahren'al takes place, where the hahrens (respected elders) meet with the Council."

"I assumed the Hahren'al was the Council."

"It is and it isn't. Some hahrens are not on the Council for one reason or another. Some Council members are not hahrens. I for one, do not count as a hahren, though I may sit and represent the Council as their Ambassador."

"Even though you are the Inquisitor?"

She shrugged. "I'm not old enough to be an elder, I suppose. But you will meet them and see for yourself." A sigh escaped her and she rubbed her temples. "It's going to be a lot of talking. I recommend some mental preparation beforehand."

"If all goes well and they approve the alliance and the bonding? When would we be bonded?

"It will take place on the fifth day, if I had to guess. A lot of bonding ceremonies take place over the course of the next week to celebrate unions of significance, often ones that unite clans or end blood feuds."

"Do you think we will face any more objections to our union?"

She groaned and buried her face in his chest. "I hope not. Though if more men catcall me, I will be forced to resort to more drastic measures," she replied dryly, summoning a small bit of purple static between her fingers.

"I'm more than willing to do it for you, if you'd like."

"What about you? Aren't you worried you'll have to fight off women vying for a chance to sleep with a god?"

He chuckled and she sat up.

"What? You're telling me no one offered to be your bedmate?"

"Of course."

This surprised her and she drew back.

He studied her reaction with measured composure. "Did you believe otherwise? Have men and women not come to you offering the same? For political power if nothing else? You are a beautiful woman. You drew many eyes whenever you entered a room."

Something inside her squirmed in discomfort. Plenty of nobles have flirted with her or tried rather boldly to start a romantic relationship with her. But nothing had ever come of their attempts, no matter how bold. "I never took them up on such offers."

"No?"

She shook her head. "No. But I told you that. There wasn't anyone after you. I haven't been with anyone in that way."

"Not even a kiss?"

She shook her head and opened her mouth to ask him why he thought there would be, but then another thought came to mind. "Oh. I see. No, there was not so much as a kiss. I take it the same cannot be said for your part?"

Solas hesitated, not wanting to admit the painful truth to her. "No. I cannot say the same."

She didn't say anything, but her face fell and it felt somehow as if a fist had taken ahold of her heart and squeezed it. She was afraid to speak. As much as she wanted to know, the thought of him with someone else pulled the very breath from her lungs and she reeled as if someone had punched her in the gut.

Solas watched her, uncertain on if he should say more. "It was several months ago. Before we met in the Crossroads. There was a woman in my court that drew my attention. One night, after a bottle of wine I came across her on my way up to my study. I suspect she was hoping to run into me. We kissed. But that was all. Nothing more came of it."

"You never saw her again?"

"No. I sent her away from court."

"Was the kiss that bad?" She tried to joke, but her heart wasn't in it. She knew she shouldn't feel this sense of… betrayal and heart-wrenching disappointment, but she did, even though she knew it was not fair. They had not been together for two years. He had a right to move on and be with others if he wished. Just because she hadn't, didn't mean he was obliged to feel and act as she did. But the heart is not so easily reasoned with and she couldn't help the sting of pain at the news.

"It was a mistake. One I did not intend to repeat."

She nodded, but said nothing as she processed how she felt about this revelation. The more she thought, the worse it made her feel, however. Getting to her feet she said, "I should go. My tent is probably ready by now and I could use some rest."

He wanted to offer to have her stay, as they had been sharing a tent before, but it was selfish and he knew it was an excuse for some distance. When she had gone he closed his eyes, wishing he could take back his actions.

It had been a moment of weakness. He had known it then as he knew it now. But he had yearned for closeness and intimacy after nights of traveling in the Fade. He could always feel her reaching out to him. Could always sense her presence, even when she did not seek him out. The anchor's call drew him. He knew she was suffering. Knew the anchor was consuming her. Knew she tried to reach him still, on those nights when she felt weak. When she missed him. When she needed someone.

Solas was not a man overly fond of drink, but in the wake of his guilt and torment for his failure to act, to save her, he turned to a bottle for comfort. But the wine and the whiskey reminded him of memories of her. And the warmth that spread through him was too like the sensation he recalled from touching her waist and kissing her lips. He ached for her. But he could not allow that. So he told himself he yearned for the touch of a woman. And he put himself in the path of the noble woman, hoping it might lead to distraction that would ease the ache of his memory of the one he truly wanted. He had listened to her bold flirtatious comments and talked with her and when she drew closer to him he had kissed her. And it was… wrong. Dull and meaningless. She was wrong. The thrill of kissing died when a false tittering moan and giggle came from the woman. The sound was over-exaggerated; meant to appeal to a man as flattery as opposed to a genuine reaction to the moment. Even the kiss had tasted wrong, felt wrong. Though at the time he was uncertain if the sour taste in his mouth was due to the wine or his own revulsion at his impulsive actions. He had ended the kiss abruptly, excusing himself, and excusing her from his court not long after out of shame.

Lost, he tried to tell himself the ache was not real. That he was not still in love with Lavellan. But it was a lie. After a long night of staring into the dark, he knew what he had to do. Over the course of the next few weeks he had painted in his room, thinking and planning his next move. He would stop the Qunari invasion with her help. He could guide her along, lead her to him, where he could see her one last time. And he would tell her the truth. He would explain what he could and save her life, if there was still time. And then he would say goodbye.

The kiss had not been planned. Feeling the boundless rush of guilt-riddled relief seeing her there, alive and fighting and wanting to help him… That had been nearly too much to bear. And when he had walked away with the weight of his broken heart upon his shoulders, he passed through the eluvians, back into his bedroom, where he came face to face with her likeness painted onto the wall and he approached it, tears streaming down his cheeks, gritting his teeth in anger and self-loathing, and then he drew his fist back and smashed it into the wall. And again. And again. And again, until his bones were shattered and the physical pain overtook his internal suffering.

For it was selfish and cruel of him to do what he did to her and call it love. To take and take and take from her. To destroy her faith in her own people. To have waited so long to stop the damage of the anchor. To turn her arm to stone. To tell her he sought to destroy her world. To tear away her last bit of hope.

Well, at least in that respect he had failed. He had not stolen away the last of her hope. And that hope led her here, to her people, and back to him.