And so we burned. We raised nations, we waged wars,

We dreamed up false gods, great demons

Who could cross the Veil into the waking world,

Turned our devotion upon them, and forgot you.

Threnodies 1:8

Of all that now beheld the man, none seemed more shocked than he was; he cast another, questioning and displeased glance down his right arm, then purposefully flexed each finger, as if he'd just been learning how to use them. He sighed deeply, then turned his sapphire, catlike eyes on the small knot of humans, who still huddled together in the opposite corner of the room, lingering fear and incredulity uniting them despite vast differences in nation and rank.

'This game of shapes is nay to win,' he sighed. 'This one is puny, the other unwieldy…Thine world has much to answer for.'

'How…' Cassius dared, 'how shall we address you, Ancient One? How…'

Lusacan took a moment to consider, then shrugged awkwardly. 'Whatever name of mine is more familiar to thine lips,' he said. 'Thou had not enough practice of any for a long time, yet one will spring to mind.'

'Lord Watcher,' Radonis said, softly.

'It be as good as any other name,' Lusacan replied. 'And cease this tiresome cowering forthwith – art thou mice, or men? I've not abandoned my glorious shape to the flock of ewe below to find more ewe up here.'

He sniffed at the air, and cringed. 'I hate the smell of stargazer flowers,' he said, almost plaintively. 'Why are such offers brought…'

'Long have lilies adorned your altars, Lord Watcher,' Cassius said. 'They open in the night, which is your domain…'

'Then blessed me that mine altars cannot smell,' the dragon god made human flesh responded, rolling his turquoise eyes.

'What might then please you…'

'An absence of fawning stupidity,' Lusacan dryly responded. 'But that this rarer in this age of my awakening than a branch of an Arlathan oak, I gather…'

He looked about himself, and sighed once more. '…and rarer still than the good sense to know a jape. O, tempora1.'

Lusacan sought a chair to sit on, and oddly, did not pick the Archon's; he picked Leliana's, looking, in great curiosity, at the cat that was occupying it, and even smiling at its protests at being woken up. It was perhaps this to cause Radonis to cross the invisible line at the centre of the chamber and regain his seat. Cassius found his own resolve a second later – he also found his bile.

'Should we not eject the priests of the false God,' he began, setting his narrowed, hate filled glance on Cassandra, 'from your holy presence, Lord Watcher?'

The Old God set his glance upon Divine Victoria; she, in turn, placed her hand on the hilt of her sword, making him chuckle with an eerie, unpractised sound. 'Why, Magister?' he asked, once more turning to Cassius. 'To see is to believe, and she believed in me far more than you ever did – her song, both misguided and ignorant, does not deny mine existence, while you followed one of the Defilers, who claimed he came to us in supplication but empty found our seats of power, a mortal who told you the glory of Tevinter was the work of mortal men. No, creature who would elevate itself in my eyes by setting knee to ground before me, there shallt not be ejections from this counsel, bar those of them who would ejections have.'

Even Radonis looked to Lusacan in surprise.

'Nor,' the God followed, 'will there be burnings of temples and books, nor of men. No war that ever started with a pyre ended elsewhere but where it started – upon a pyre of its own…A lesson that our enemy has yet to learn, I see, though mine is not the doubt that he has not witnessed it repeat itself through history.'

'You know Fen'Harel, then?' Leliana stuttered, inching forth.

'Fen'Harel?' Lusacan frowned. 'A name which brings forth nothing to this, mine mind; our foe is Solas.'

'One and the same,' Cassandra breathed.

The God shaped like a man leaned forward and attentively beheld her, as if attempting to discern the truth in her words.

'How do you know he…our foe,' Radonis corrected, 'is the Elvhen named Solas?'

'Immortals oft cross each other's' paths. As oft as mortals do, just greater mountains are ground into dust betwixt each crossing, and we behold more ruins when we look over our shoulders than mortals do…'

'The man who woke me stands not here among you,' Lusacan thoughtfully followed. 'Nor was his call to mine presence one of faith – but he called on mine power, and I heard him; for that to be possible, the walls of my prison must have been weakened – and there is but one man I know who could do such a thing, in this age, or in the ages before this one. The Elvhen, as you call him, Solas.'

Lusacan chuckled to himself. 'Fen'Harel…The grand eschewer of titles finally acquires one. How comes he by his name?' he asked of Radonis.

The Archon swallowed dry. 'If we are to believe what we have learned, the name was given him when he led a rebellion against the other Elvhen…Gods,' he brought himself to say, watching Lusacan's eyes for signs of anger; there was none, though – just a brief flicker of wicked satisfaction. 'It is said that the Evanuris murdered Mythal…'

At this, Lusacan laughed, the tone of his voice becoming more natural by the minute. 'They killed Mythal! Mine slumber was not dreamless, yet such a pleasant dream as this was not given me!'

'She did not quite stay dead,' Leliana dared, in a whisper.

'Of course she did not,' Lusacan shrugged, as if the knowledge brought him no surprise. 'Yet I am overjoyed to hear she, of all, has had to learn the great pleasures of re-embodiment – hah! But follow on, thine tale is music to mine ears. They killed Mythal, high crime against the very heavens, and they did not see Solas rising against them, high crime against intelligence…But, a common one,' he sighed, mostly to himself. 'Follow on then – his vengeance must have come swiftly.'

'Indeed,' Radonis nodded. 'It is said that he created the veil, then, to imprison them…'

Lusacan huffed. 'Is that how thee and thine explain the wicked barrier's creation in your temples, priestess?' he asked Cassandra; there was no trace of irony in his voice.

'No,' the Divine responded, dryly.

'Well, thou art but human, in the end,' the Watcher said. He smirked. 'This dents mine pride at having done away with Arlathan, but not all that came to pass in mine absence could be joyous. Thou need not follow with thine tale,' he thoughtfully said. 'Solas created the veil, and so destroyed Elvhenan all on his own, with nay need of an army…and then, after his temper had finally stilled, he realised what he had done.'

'And wishes to undo it,' Radonis softly said.

'Heh,' Lusacan said. 'Return the killers of Mythal to his people? Unlikely. When Solas puts a critter in a box, he intends to leave them there…'

He bit his lower lip, in thought. '…if, indeed, he can so do. Hm. 'Tis rare to fear one's enemies' mistakes, yet if he blunders this…'

Lusacan drifted to distance and silence, unaware of the trepidation in those who surrounded him; Cassandra could not take it for too long.

'Lord…Lord Watcher,' she brought herself to say, though gritted teeth, 'the unchanging world is burning all about us; if you know of a way…'

'The unchanging world burns every so often, priestess of the misguided song.' He dismissively said. 'And yet behold, it never burns fully, and somehow finds a different way to blossom and recover before it burns again. In a time long before your time, mine brother, whom you named Zazikel, called this renewal…'

He stood, and strode towards the window, to behold his vacant dragon form, and the myriads of small shrines and offerings that were now surrounding it. ''Tis no bewilderment of mine that your world burns. What does vex me, however,' he followed, turning to face them and grinning wide, 'is that I have been stood here among you for the best part of a night, and while all flock to honour me with foul smelling plants, none has yet offered me a single elf; not even an ear off one. Why is that?' he asked, in a falsely benevolent tone.

Cassandra, Leliana and Radonis blanched.

'We…uhm,' Cassius stuttered, 'we don't have any…er, on hand.'

'You still have Gladius,' Magistra Tullius acidly put in; Cassius looked utterly disconcerted by the swipe.

'Indeed,' he breathed out. 'Shall I…' he further uttered, shakily beginning to rise to his feet, 'go, and…'

Lusacan's lips curled upwards, in wicked amusement, yet, for the Archon, this was a step too far; he stood a lot faster than Cassius and faced the dragon god. His voice was laced with fear, such as none who knew him had ever heard it, but he nonetheless spoke.

'Lord Watcher,' he said, 'I beg your forgiveness, but the blood of one single elf shall not, I fear, appease you for all the wrongful paths we've walked without your guidance…'

'The blood of thousands might,' Lusacan responded, his grin turning cruelly crooked.

'We no longer possess those numbers, my Lord; our enemy has taken them from us,' Radonis whispered, lowering his glance, 'and, as such, I beg you that the few elvhen who remained at our side, showing great loyalty, be spared…Their numbers are insufficient to bring you satisfaction…'

'And you, Ferryman of Tevinter, heir to Darinius,' Lusacan said, leaning towards the Archon in a manner which poignantly reminded all of his reptilian form, 'value their lives above my pleasure?'

Radonis clenched his jaws before replying. 'Not all share my…my values,' he brought himself to finish.

'Traitor,' Cassius hissed; the Watcher's glance did not shift from Radonis.

'I can unseat you,' the god neutrally said.

'I know that, Lord Watcher,' Radonis nodded.

'I could kill you,' Lusacan followed.

'I know that too.' The Archon said.

The Watcher shook his head, and smiled with unreadable sadness before once more turning away from them all and clenching the windowsill, while keeping his turquoise eyes closed.

'You do not worship me, Ferryman,' Lusacan dreamily said. 'But you do fear me; thine voice betrays it, thine smell betrays it – still you stand up to mine demands, and now that thine fate rests with me, a prayer must be in thine heart…Who is it to?' he queried, not turning, and not opening his eyes. 'Do you pray to the god of the false song?'

'No, Lord Watcher,' Radonis said, softly. 'I pray to wisdom and magic.'

Lusacan chuckled bitterly. 'Then mine shall not be fair news to deliver, Ferryman. Mythal is dead, you say, so wisdom is dead or at least scattered; and as for magic…Mine sister, the one you call Razikale, still slumbers. Thine prayer, I fear, hath no ears it could reach.'

Radonis drew a deep breath and nodded – Maryam Tullius made her way to his side, and placed her still injured hand on his arm. The man looked down at her and shook his head, to tell her she needed not die with him. The woman shrugged.

Lusacan turned, great sadness in his cat eyes and simply strode past them, to regain his seat.

'My offer, Lord…' Cassius whispered – when faced with the fury and disgust he saw in the Watcher's eyes all but made him overturn his chair.

'Thou shall not buy the Ferryman's ring with the offer of a life that is not thine to offer!' Lusacan thundered. 'Thine elf is not thine slave, I see this in thine thoughts. How dare thou think that it is a gift more pleasing than seeing a man lay his own life across mine path, for he judges it wrongful?'

'If one of seven Magisters Sidereal2 had had the bravery to do the same, if only one of the Defilers had stepped back from the ambition that was theirs and the blind hunger that was ours, the forms of your Gods would not have been tainted, their spirits not devoured! Yet there was none that stood against the madness that was our undoing – and one by one, dirtied and humbled and lost we died true deaths, and of the seven only two remain!'

'We cannot hope to win a war if we fight the same as when we lost it,' he said, in a far calmer tone. 'Very well, Ferryman,' he sighed, 'keep your elvhen – by thine account they have inflicted 'pon their world far more than our righteous vengeance ever could accomplish…'

'Vengeance, my Lord?' Cassandra asked; Lusacan gazed at her, then through her, as if he had been gazing into an inscrutable past.

'The reason why thine world keeps burning, priestess,' the dragon said, softly, 'is that it is, unknowingly, the stage of a war that has begun long before thine memory did, a war which has not yet ended, that will not end until Solas himself…is ended.' Lusacan finished, dryly.

'I fear I do not understand,' Radonis said, finding enough courage to frown, and sustain the dragon's gaze. Surprisingly, the Watcher smiled, with the same sad expression.

''Tis not a tale fit for all ears,' Lusacan said, briefly; he leaned back in his chair, and crossed his arms over his chest. 'Is it Solas alone we face?'

'It is suggested that Mythal…' Leliana said. The dragon pursed his lips.

'That be nay good,' he thoughtfully said. 'Even in dream existence, she be a mighty foe.'

'And it is not only that,' Leliana followed, regaining some of her courage. 'We believe that Mythal also holds the essence of Urthemiel…the one we called Urthemiel,' she corrected, remembering Lusacan's pattern of speech.

The dragon frowned deeply.

'But is that even possible?' Magistra Tullius inquired. 'We thought Urthemiel dead in the Ferelden Blight.'

'He should have been,' Arl Teagan spoke up, for the first time. 'I stood there sword in hand when he was slain.' He ended, then froze, mouth ajar, when Lusacan's gaze suddenly snapped to him; once more, the dragon amazed them.

'Mine brother was slain when the corruption reached him,' Lusacan said, dryly. 'It was no mortal's weapon to end him, but his own hand, millennia ago; perhaps his essence could be cleansed,' he continued, standing and slowly beginning to pace, 'but that would require knowledge only Mythal possibly could hold…Hm,' he said, 'the odds are stacked, or would appear so…But nay that high, bird of song,' he said, addressing Leliana. 'Mythal might have cleansed him, but she has not awoken him, and hence cannot command his strength, for unto her he would not yield it in a thousand years and thousands more.'

'The woman who conducted the ritual was not Mythal, however,' Leliana said. 'It was one of her…daughters,' she finished, hesitating on the word.

'You mean a woman she was grooming for her vessel,' Lusacan said, with a small grin. 'I see the pains of her embodiment were greater than ours,' he eerily chuckled. 'Good, this too is pleasing to mine ear. Very well, then, mortals,' he said, 'thine counsel has been…enlightening, but,' Lusacan continued, finally getting to the one demand the entire room was dreading, 'the counsel I sorely miss is that of mine sister; she must be returned to me before the night is done.'

Radonis bit his lower lip. 'We still do not understand fully how you've returned to us; I fear…'

'Someone not in this chamber channelled my power through one of mine holy relics,' Lusacan shrugged.

'Dorian,' Radonis whispered, before he could catch himself – for very different reasons, Leliana and Cassius smirked horribly.

'Is that his name?' the Watcher asked, arching an eyebrow. 'And of what line is he?'

'House Pavus, Lord Watcher,' the Archon answered; there was no way around the truth now; Lusacan nodded, smiling agreeably.

'Good,' he said. 'I should like to be courteous when I bestow him with mine gratitude…Still, but for the thinness of the wicked barrier, the call of light might not have reached me. The same must be done for mine sister, before our foe realises his error.'

'He has not erred,' Cassandra bitterly said. 'He plans to remove the veil altogether.'

Lusacan shook his head. 'Not fully, nay, priestess, for if he so did…' He cackled ominously. 'If he so did, he would open one coffin too many, one he would not get the time or chance to once more close. He might have fooled us all, once,' he hissed between gritted teeth. 'We'll nay let him fool us twice; if he sets loose the Evanuris, they will end him, then they will turn on us, and then, only then, priestess, your world would learn the true meaning of the word burn.'

'Enough chatter,' he dryly concluded. 'Go forth and do my bidding – there is a wretched temple in this ruin of the jewel we gifted you with, in our day. I opened my eyes there first, to spy the sorry remnants of my faith…and not an elf in sight there, either,' he muttered. 'They call to Razikale too, in this pitiful place, now, perhaps, with a little more genuine fervour; find something of hers, and channel magic though it…Also,' he added, though the Magisters had turned to obey him, the weight of the world on their shoulders, 'what is this city?' he asked pointing to a spot on the scattered maps.

'Vol Dorma,' Radonis responded, swallowing dry.

'It be not mine concern, but thou may well wish to evacuate at least its southern side, before thou waketh Razikale.'

'Why, Lord Watcher?' Magistra Tullius all but whimpered. 'Is the Augur likely to be less…less forgiving than you have shown yourself to be?'

'I don't know about that,' Lusacan chuckled. 'Not even Gods truly know the moods of women. Still mood foul or fair is of no importance. She'll take half the city with her on her first flight.'

'Why…'

'Because it is below it that she slumbers, mortal fools!' Lusacan thundered – and then there truly was a stampede towards the door.

1 O tempora, o mores – no literal translation into English, but the basic idea is that time changes morals for the worst. Cicero again, from his First Oration against Catiline and Second Oration against another guy whose name I cannot recall now.

2 The group of Magisters that by legend breached into the Fade at the call of the Old Gods

Hmmm...Could it be that Solas is not the only one who knows a tiny bit more about the actual history of the realm than our heroes do? It would appear so! Also, he is not exactly what we thought he would be...So many wonderful possibilities!

Thank you for reading and commenting, and Happy Holidays for everyone :)