This was another chapter I really enjoyed writing, though it required so much editing. It was fun imagining the way an elven city might have been arranged.

Translations at the bottom.

Nehnadahlen

Words failed.

I suppose I noticed the trees first, for they were almost incomprehensibly huge. Five or six aravels, stationed next to each other, would have fit comfortably within many of them. The largest might have engulfed a human village with ease.

The enormity of the trees didn't capture the quality of the air, though - the way it shimmered in rainbows and with other colors I simply had no names for. And yet, at the same time, nothing was hazy or obscured. Everything stood out in sharp, perfect angles - so perfect they ached.

The next things I noticed, simultaneously, were the sounds and smells.

It smelled like the forest, unquestionably, but not like any forest I knew. Green things - yes. Flowers - yes. Water - yes. The sharp, clean, resonant smell of conifers - yes. But the conifer smell was not pine, fir, cedar, or any conifer I could attach a name to. It had lingering bass notes - spice and musk - so different from the scents I knew that I wasn't certain it was from the trees at all until I came across a sapling and was able to crush some of its needles in my hand, breathing in the aroma that rose from them. It was strange and beautiful, and it made me smile.

At the same time, I became aware of the sounds. There were birds - many birds - not brightly colored, but with mellifluous trills and whistles. Soft chimes rang through the air, echoing harmonies across the expanse of forest. Under these, there was a sound I eventually identified as voices - but they sounded odd. Not the staccato thrum of crowds at a distance, but something more musical, as though I listened to a thousand choirs practicing at once. When we eventually came upon a group of people - my people, elves - sometime later, I understood why: they pitched their voices in harmony with each other as they conversed, almost singing the words. When I looked to Solas for an explanation, he said: "A common affectation here, where beauty is prized above all else." Then he smiled ruefully. "It was, thankfully, not a practice that caught on widely."

There was so much to see around me on the ground that the last thing I noticed was the city, and then only by degrees.

First, it was the ribbons that encircled the trunks of the trees, thin and shimmering. It took me some time to realize the "ribbons" were actually paths - roads, really - made of some translucent crystalline substance, wide enough for several people to walk abreast. Then my eye followed them up - up - and I finally saw the palaces constructed among the limbs of the great trees. Constructed among the limbs, but rarely using them for support. These spires of marble, precious metals, and the same crystalline substance used on the road were held aloft by magic.

My perspective was not ideal, standing almost directly below the city as I did, yet I could see the grace in its design. Thought seemed to have been given to the placement of every building, every fountain, every hanging garden, every arching bridge in relation to every other piece of the city, so that they delighted the eye from any angle. I looked up through faintly dizzying levels of the city, translucent ribbons of road crossing my vision from every angle, in many colors, softened by falls of greenery and water - and all of it was beautiful both separately and as a complete picture. It entirely lacked the grand ostentation of Val Royeaux - generally considered the most beautiful city in Thedas - and yet this city made the one I was familiar with look haphazard, as though the art Val Royeaux boasted had been tossed about carelessly, by people with no appreciation for it. The city above me was far and away the most glorious I had ever laid eyes on.

I stared. And stared. Wet my lips - lost the question I had been about to ask - and stared.

At last Solas touched my shoulder, calling my attention and my gaze from the city above. "Is this Arlathan?" I whispered.

He smiled - not mockingly, but fondly - as though at some private memory. "No," he answered. "This is Nehnadahlen, named for the trees that grew here. It actually rests almost precisely atop the place where Cumberland sits now."

I looked around with renewed wonder - if that were even possible. "This? But - what happened to the trees?"

Solas took a breath, raising his eyes to the tops of the trees as his shoulders fell. "Nehnadahl," he said, his voice sad. "Prized for the scent of its resin and the beautiful red-gold color of its wood. Our people sometimes harvested limbs to craft into items fit for the royal courts of the Evanuris. After the fall of Elvhenan, the Tevinters coveted the wood for building and logged the forest, sending its bounty back to Minrathous. Supposedly, pillars of nehnadahl grace some of that city's oldest and finest buildings. And the trees - the trees are extinct."

"Oh," I said, my heart breaking a little as I gazed at the forest and breathed in its unique scent.

"This was the first real city I ever visited," Solas said as casually as if talking about his past were something he did...ever. "And I imagine I wore an expression very similar to your own."

"What were you here for?" I asked, trying to match his off-handedness and very carefully not looking at him. It was easy enough to do - there were crystal palaces floating in a sky made of rainbows.

I expected him to put me off with something vague, but he said: "The first time, I had an audience with Falon'Din, under whose aegis I was born. I was too powerful a mage to be ignored, you understand, but the Evanuris were careful about choosing their courts." Solas's lips quirked in a small, satisfied smile, and he glanced at me to find me staring at him. "None of this matters now, ma vhenan," he pointed out, easily reading my expression and the reason for it. "I did not keep it secret because I am, by nature, secretive."

"No, that's true," my mouth said before my wonder-numbed mind could catch up. "You are awful at keeping secrets."

"Not so bad - you were surprised enough to learn I was Fen'Harel," Solas retorted.

"Only because it was so utterly unthinkable. If you remember, it didn't take me long to put the pieces together once I understood someone named Fen'Harel was working against the Qunari." He still looked skeptical, so I sighed and went on: "Solas, the best kept secret is the one no one knows you're keeping. You, on the other hand, blurt out everything right up to whatever it is you can't share, and only then rein yourself in." I reached out and patted his arm. "It's very obvious, ma'lath, and I find it rather sweet when it doesn't make me want to stab you." He snorted. "Did you join Falon'Din's court?" I asked, continuing the conversation I would rather be having and hoping this part still didn't matter.

"No," he said, the satisfied smile returning. "I was not...decorative enough for his taste. Instead, he traded me to Mythal in return for a member of her court he was taken with."

"I assume Mythal got the better end of the bargain," I said, deciding all at once that I wanted to see the crystal roads up close. I drifted in the general direction of the nearest, and Solas followed me without complaint.

"I suppose that depends on your perspective," Solas said lightly, catching up to me. "I was the more powerful mage, but Falon'Din had several children with the woman he traded me for before he tired of her - and that is value, of a sort."

I raised an eyebrow. "Did either of you have any say in this?" I asked.

"Of course. We weren't slaves. I wanted a place in a court - though admittedly not Falon'Din's court once I had met him, nor was my discipline suited for the agents Dirthamen cultivated - and the woman he traded me for sought his attention in the same way I later sought to marry one of Mythal's daughters," Solas said. "Such liaisons were merely a means of quickly gaining political power."

My eyes went wide, and I nearly tripped over a bush while staring at him, saved only by his hand catching my arm. "You...wanted to marry?"

He pulled me closer and studied my face. "Not for any good reason," he replied. "And all Mythal's daughters at that time were older than I was, beautiful, and sought after. So even when Mythal herself attempted to encourage one of them to choose me, none did." One side of his mouth pulled up in a grudging smile. "She always did raise independent-minded children. Morrigan, though perhaps the most annoying of them, is far from an anomaly."

"Why did Mythal want you to marry one of her daughters?" I asked. "If she knew you only wanted political power, I mean?"

"To secure my loyalty, naturally," Solas answered. "I told you - court politics never change. She found me an increasingly useful ally…" he paused, closed his eyes, and when they opened he seemed to be gazing into some distance only he could see, "and more than a mere ally, when the war came. We became friends - even lovers, for a time."

"Oh."

His eyes flew to mine as though he had only just remembered whom he spoke to. "I - that is, we were poorly matched in that regard, but - in war, one finds comfort where one can."

"I...see," I said, not angry or hurt - not certain how to feel, really. His past was his past, and that was fine. Just - it was strange that I had come to love him not knowing any of this. Or anything else, for that matter. Another thought struck me, and I laughed - perhaps with a touch of bitterness. "A shame our stand against Corypheus wasn't...war-like enough for you to require comfort. I might have appreciated some."

"It was and I did," he responded. "But - I only wanted it from you, and you were precisely the person I had no right turn to."

"Solas..." I sighed, turning away.

"To be perfectly fair, ma vhenan, the question began to come up well before you could have expected me to realize that it wouldn't alter your opinion of me to learn I was the villain in all the stories your people ever told you of your ancient empire." He offered me his hand, and after a moment of hesitation, I took it. "By all rights, you should fear me," he said.

"Fear you?" I couldn't help laughing. "Why?"

He regarded me, head tilted to one side. "Because I am Fen'Harel. Because I am one of the most powerful mages who has ever lived. Because I was born before the Evanuris claimed godhood or even crowns, when they still lurked behind thrones, installing players and pulling strings, which makes me ancient." He shrugged. "Because I can become a dragon, if you would like to count that."

"A dragon," I snorted. "That's an...optimistic...name for what you can become. And - I'm sorry, but you acquired the ability long after dragons ceased to make much impression on me. I've killed a lot of them, including Corypheus's pet archdemon, which was considerably more horrifying than your monster form." I made a face. "The smell alone…"

His laughter was sharp - surprised. "You aren't wrong about the smell, at any rate," he agreed before his smile softened. "You are not, however, much awed by the rest of the list, either."

"Do you want me to be?" I asked.

"Not in the least," he said. "I - did not intend to reveal that information about Mythal...in that way. Ir abelas."

I looked at our clasped hands. "It wasn't the way you revealed it - or that it happened, either," I added quickly. "How could I be upset over things that happened thousands of years before I even existed, no matter how bluntly you divulge them? It just feels like something I should have known about you a long time ago. There should have been a game - or something - in which you told me all the most interesting and shocking people you had ever bedded."

"And what would you have revealed in return?" he asked. "It sounds one-sided, as you propose it."

I smiled at him, though I felt my cheeks heat. "All the most interesting and shocking people I have ever fantasized about bedding, of course."

That earned me another bark of surprised laughter, and he shook his head. "Ane sildela, i ra sath em. I believe you owe me one, in that case."

"Shartan," I replied, almost glad I was already blushing so he couldn't know how much this particular adolescent fantasy embarrassed me. "There are stories among the Dalish, you know, that he and Andraste were lovers. I always wondered how she had the time. The Maker, Maferath, and an elven lover, too?" I glanced at Solas, realizing I was, for the first time in several years, free to voice some of my less-flattering thoughts on Andraste. "She must have been insatiable. But Shartan was a hero and deserved nothing less than someone's full attention."

"Insatiable," Solas repeated, his smile widening. "That certainly casts the title Herald of Andraste in a new light."

It was my turn to laugh in surprise. "I don't know, could one organize an effective religion around one woman needing that many lovers? Though, truthfully, I might find the title more bearable if that were what it meant - " I broke off, realizing what I was saying, and felt my face heat all over again as I pulled my hand from his to half turn away so he couldn't see my face as easily. "Be-because the way everyone actually means it makes no sense and has n-nothing to do with me or anything that happened," I said too quickly, tripping over the words, "so - anything would be better. Not - not because…"

A snort of suppressed laughter interrupted me, and I risked a glance at Solas. His arms were half-folded, a pose he often adopted when he was considering a problem, but the thumb of his left hand wasn't running absently across his lower lip, and he wasn't contemplating unseen realities I could only guess at. Instead, his knuckles were pressed to his mouth to contain his laughter, and he was pointedly contemplating me. "The question," he managed, his voice only a little bit choked, "is whether I judge by today, or the relative restraint you displayed in the course of our months together."

I gave up. "Judge by today," I advised, trying to sound matter-of-fact and failing, though at least my face could hardly get more red. "The restraint was in deference to your preferences, not mine. I want to look at that road," I continued in the same breath, nodding toward the nearest nehnadahl.

Solas came to my side, brushing away the hair that had fallen over my shoulder. His fingers found the back of my neck, where they settled, stroking my skin lightly. "Ir abelas," he said as he rested his forehead on top of my head, though he didn't sound sorry in the least. "I know what you meant, but, in my defense, you are beautiful when you blush - and your ideas so rarely come out with anything other than perfect clarity that...well, you cannot possibly understand how much I enjoyed that."

I had to bite my lip to hide a smile as he finished. I couldn't begrudge him his enjoyment when he put it that way. "That was...possibly the worst apology I've ever been offered," I informed him anyway, with as much severity as I could summon. "And consider, when I say that, exactly how much time I spend in the Orlesian court."

Apparently my tone was convincing enough that he had to look at my face to decide whether I was serious, but he quickly saw that I wasn't, and so he didn't bother to address my complaint beyond a smile and a kiss pressed to my temple. Then his expression sobered a little, and he glanced around as though either watching for something or trying to orient himself. "You wanted to examine the roads," he said after a moment, nodding and taking my hand again. "Very well, lead the way."

We passed more people as we came closer to the tree I had marked. They dressed in robes made of a shimmering fabric I couldn't name, cut with elegant simplicity, and arranged with little ornamentation beyond wide belts that held them closed. The belts were sometimes extravagantly decorated with goldwork or more colorful - but less costly - embroidery, and the buckles were usually worked with serpentine or vine-like contours, though simpler examples also appeared with some regularity. Rings seemed to be favored as jewelry, and some hands I saw boasted three or four rings on every finger.

This, at least, described the people we passed whose faces were as clear as my own now was, unmarked by vallaslin. We passed roughly an equal number of slaves, the majority branded with designs I recognized as belonging to Falon'Din, though a substantial portion were marked with Dirthamen's symbols. Those enslaved all wore white robes, cut much like those of the wealthier residents, but with shorter, tighter sleeves, and less billowing fabric to impede movement. They walked quickly, with obvious purpose, rather than drifting by with a facade of serene unconcern as their unenslaved counterparts did, but their faces were composed, without obvious marks of abuse or fear.

I looked at Solas as we passed a pair of enslaved girls - twins - carrying baskets of produce and hurrying along arm-in-arm. His mouth was set in a firm line, but I couldn't read his expression otherwise. "Are they treated well?" I asked, nodding toward the backs of the two girls.

"It's the same here as anywhere, even Tevinter," he answered. "Some are - and some are not. But in this city, those who are not dare not display it publicly, because-" He broke off as we arrived at the tree and the road I had been aiming for. "I will show you, after. It is easier to explain if you observe first."

I nodded my acquiescence and focused on the road, releasing Solas's hand as I stepped toward it. The crystal ramp that twisted around the trunk began at the base of the tree. On the ground, all paths were dirt and fallen needles from the trees, marked only by the fact that they were smoother and more level than the natural forest floor, and lacked bushes, ferns, or saplings to trip unwary feet or foul wheels. Not that I saw many wheeled vehicles - the occasional handcart, but nothing pulled by animals.

I reached out and touched the crystalline rail that edged the road. It lit softly under my fingers, and I snatched my hand back, startled, before carefully replacing it. Behind me, Solas chuckled. The light rippled across my hand as though greeting me, and then subsided. "What was that?" I asked.

"Choose a destination and step onto the ghilalven," Solas instructed me.

I looked up into the sky and chose the nearest of the spires, and - taking hold of my hard-won familiarity with travel in the Fade - stepped forward with the intent of finding out what lay inside it. Beneath my feet, the crystal - the ghilalven - lit with the same light that had greeted my touch on the rail, but rather than fading away, it flowed forward, up to where the ramp curved out of my sight behind the great trunk of the tree, before relighting under my feet and repeating the performance.

"As long as you maintain a destination in your mind, the ghilalven will show you the path forward," Solas explained.

"'Guiding way,'" I whispered, translating the word.

"Made from waystone - ven'ter," he agreed. "Its function - its very existence - depended on the presence of the Fade. Some places, such as many of the floors in Vir Dirthara, are entirely inaccessible now that all the ven'ter has crumbled to dust."

"Was it...mined? Mixed, as an alloy? Created entirely from Fade-stuff?" I wondered.

"The base was quartz," he answered, "and then it was enhanced via alchemical process and enchantment to act as it did. But that enchantment could not be maintained without the touch of the Fade to give it life, and so ven'ter and the ghilalvenaan it created exist only as a memory, now, deep within the Fade."

I gestured toward the crystal spires above, letting go of my intended destination. The light of the ghilalven pulsed and faded around me. "What of the buildings?"

"Ven'ter," Solas confirmed, "though the enchantments within the stone are used differently - to scatter sunlight, making it more comfortable for the eyes, and to provide light by night." He laughed. "Falon'Din's architects were the first to use ven'ter in that way, and you cannot imagine his rage when builders in Arlathan began making use of it in their own constructions. It was said Elgar'nan gifted him a thousand slaves and sent the most beautiful of his children to join Falon'Din's court to avert a war."

I turned to look at him. "You said once - that the blood of those who refused to worship Falon'Din filled oceans as he sought more adulation."

"That was later," Solas said quietly. "Many ages later. It was Falon'Din's wars in the service of his own vanity that split me from Mythal's court and made me Fen'Harel rather than Fen'Mythalan."

"Mythal's Wolf," I said.

"The wolf she trained to guard her herds from the thieves and poachers among her kin, who would have despoiled them," Solas said, answering the unspoken question. "I left her court, but she was my closest friend and confidant, and I could not entirely abandon her - as Falon'Din learned to his regret when he attempted to invade her lands shortly after it became clear I no longer personally defended her borders." Solas let out a breath and shook his head. "It was I who bloodied Falon'Din's nose in his own temple - and at the same time sowed the seeds that would prompt the rest of the Evanuris to turn on Mythal. I could not have known, but - I bear some responsibility for her death, too."

I returned to him, closing the short distance between us, and reached up to touch his face. He leaned into the caress, and then his arms wrapped around me, pulling me against him. "Solas, whatever it was - I have seen and heard enough to know she should have repudiated the Evanuris, and she didn't. Don't claim her share of the responsibility, as well as your own."

"Does the Well of Sorrows whisper that in your thoughts?" he asked.

"Not exactly. Her priests were all convinced of her divinity and infallibility," I replied. "But her murder is a jagged blade in the heart of that faith, echoing back through the ages, and through the cracks I can read some of the truths they wouldn't let themselves see. I know you wanted her to lead your revolt, and I know she refused."

His eyebrows went up. "How long have you known that?"

"It only came to me now, as you were speaking. That's the way the memories are, much to my continual chagrin," I said with a grimace. "They rarely give me information in time for it to be of any use."

"Ir abelas, i…" his lips quirked, "giran seranna."

"Is that the real reason you didn't want me to drink from the Well?" I asked. "Because you were afraid I would find you out?"

"No," he said, frowning, and then hesitated. "But the possibility may have contributed to my anger after the fact, even if it was only a distant possibility. I never visited Mythal's temple personally, and the priests never visited her court." He studied me for a moment, and then bent and kissed me. "Ar lath ma, vhenan. Thank you for listening, and - for not allowing the weight of the past to reshape your opinion of me."

"We did spend more than a year living and working in close proximity, in somewhat trying circumstances," I pointed out, "so it isn't as though I don't know you, even if it feels strange not to understand any of what made you who you are. There's also the part where what you're doing now is likely the worst thing you have ever done, and I love you anyway."

He laughed and looked away. "That was - not at all what I meant, but it amply proves my gratitude is not misplaced." I opened my mouth to ask what he meant, but he went on before I could. "If your curiosity is satisfied for the moment, you have not yet seen what I primarily brought you here to see."

"All right, show me," I said, stepping back as he released me.

He took my hand again. "This way, if I am not mistaken," he said, tugging me along after him.

Nehnadahlen: Joy-forest

Ane sildela, i ra sath em: You are wicked (in a sexually-charged sense), and it delights me.

Ir abelas, i...giran seranna: I'm sorry, and...I'm grateful