"Why are you to come upon us alone,

Wearing the armor of our most hated foe,

When I can see you are no man of the legion?"

And Shartan answered: "If you hate the legion,

Then I am your friend."

Shartan 20:21-26

'Congratulations,' Briala said. 'Grand ceremony.'

'Thank you,' Veldrin replied, knitting her fingers on the still bare desk before her; the red haired elf narrowed her eyes.

'I never thought anyone could ever surpass me as the most hated elf on the continent, yet you manage to surprise yet again.' Briala agreeably said.

'Thank you,' Veldrin once more replied, smiling brightly in her turn. 'I aim to please.'

Briala grinned. 'Indeed,' she responded. 'The question is whom, precisely…The pleasing part was never in doubt. I find your rooms strangely sparse, however,' the Orlesian said, looking about herself. 'One would think the Restorer would get finer appointments.'

Veldrin took the sting with an even wider smile.

'I was only recently sworn in; I am not moving into the guest wing of the Archon's palace just yet, if that is what you are here to determine.'

'I was more thinking under Lusacan's wing.' Briala distractedly said.

'On top of Imperator's Gate? That sounds extremely uncomfortable.' Veldrin replied, arching an eyebrow.

'Not as uncomfortable, one might have thought, as kneeling before them and swearing allegiance, but…'

'I managed to surprise you, yet again; you are too oft surprised for a spymistress, Marquise,' Vel thinly smiled. 'Not unlike another spymistress of my acquaintance…what can I do for you, Briala?' she tiredly asked. 'Other than compare degrees of discomfort?'

'You swore to the Old Gods of Tevinter,' Briala said, dryly.

'And you swore to Andraste,' Vel acidly replied. 'So, again, are you here to compare degrees of discomfort? Because, in that case, I will order refreshments. We will be here a while.'

She sighed, and rested her forehead in her hands. 'Besides,' Vel followed, 'I doubt Empress Celene would find it useful employment of your official first visit, to this, our glorious capital…Why did she send you? She must have known Radonis would not accept your accreditation.'

'She trusted no one else but me; reports of the dragons' awakening arrived in Val Royaux weeks ago, of course, but whether they were true, or mere propaganda, we could not truly discern.' Briala responded. 'Besides, we did not truly believe that I would truly reach the Archon – she appointed me with you in mind. Because, you see…'

The Orlesian chuckled eerily. 'She thought that we were kindred,' Briala ended, smiling wryly; Veldrin laughed too, and finally gestured for her guest to sit. 'You'd think that after twenty years sharing my bed and my life she would be able to tell one Elvhen nation from another,' the red-haired woman followed, 'yet…'

'We still are all the same to her,' Veldrin said, softly.

'Quite so,' Briala nodded, smiling; she was not donning her mask, and, for once, the expression on her features did not seem perfectly practiced. 'She therefore thought that you might be more open to speaking with me than you would be speaking to an unknown envoy. Will you? Speak honestly with me?' Briala asked, crossing her legs.

Veldrin shook her head in amusement. 'What should we speak of? Anything that Leliana has not already told you?'

Briala conceded with a shrug. 'She is a tad…shall we say, disturbed. That aside, she can only tell me what I have already seen – the dragons are real, you have indeed attained Magistra, the elves are not carrying some sort of infectious disease, as Denerim...'

'…as Denerim is already more than happy to unofficially suggest,' Veldrin sneered; Briala shrugged again.

'A plague they can mend, or at the very least pretend to address,' the Orlesian said, dryly. 'The broken veil, less so.'

'And Val Royaux?' Vel asked.

'Val Royaux has not expressed an official position on the subject. For the time being.' Briala answered, lowering her glance. 'The Chantry's reassurances are beginning to sound hollow, as the chaos throughout the land has not decreased. I am authorised to advise you that not even Celene will be able to contain rumours.'

'I need not tell you what will follow, should either capital decide to declare this an elf-carried disease, Magistra Pavus,' the Orlesian continued, gracefully folding her hands in her lap. 'The so-called plague of Denerim is not so long in the past that you've forgotten what actions were taken on the occasion. Further, now, unlike then, I should think Tevinter will be glad to pay above market price for those the southern capitals deem…diseased; we are in dire need of gold and distraction, and, from what I hear, Tevinter is in dire need of elves.'

Veldrin smiled thinly. 'I wonder what price you shall fetch, then, Marquise. I can even think of quite a few eager buyers with pockets deep enough to convince even Celene to part with your delightful company.'

'I scarcely think…'Briala began, in as a polite and sweet a voice as ever.

'That one low barb deserves another? Oddly enough, I do,' Veldrin replied, her lips drawn thin. 'We are no longer in Orlais, and we are not playing the grand game, cousin. We're in Tevinter, I am a Magister and you are a person with no legal status, as your accreditation has not been accepted. I can therefore tell you exactly what I think.'

'I had dared hoped that you had not arrived to the delusion of power where you find shooting the messenger is in any way wise.' The Orlesian said. 'If you assume that the nature of my dispatch brings me pleasure, you are gravely mistaken.'

Veldrin measured Briala through half lidded eyes, then gave her a slow, thoughtful nod.

'I'd not assumed that, no,' Vel said. 'It is Celene's mendacity and your subservient tolerance of it that inspires anger; of all people, she knows exactly what this is, as she has been though the eluvians. Come to think of it, so has your Grand Enchanter…'

'That bears no relevance, Magistra Pavus,' Briala answered. 'The fact that this is no disease is well known in the Southern courts, but none can publicly admit to a problem with no solution. Furthermore, Arl Teagan's correspondence with Denerim is antagonistic, and parts of Denerim were already deeply convinced that this is no more than a Tevinter ruse, since your adoptive homeland is the only one who is not suffering.'

'Preposterous,' Veldrin muttered. 'If this had been Tevinter's will, Lusacan would be nesting quite comfortably in the Palace District.'

Briala lowered her glance. 'I agree with you,' she said, a slight tremor in her voice, 'and we have had it from good sources that King Therein, who was at the Hero of Ferelden's side during the previous, grievous wrong visited upon our people, knows the truth of it. He is a fair man, and I would be slighting Queen Anora, were I to say she is not a fair woman. Still, she is more pragmatic than her husband, and, in truth, it is now impossible to ascertain what her knowledge or even involvement was in the original Denerim plague, given that it was her father to have engineered it...'

'Ah,' Veldrin bitterly chuckled, 'now Celene's choice of agent becomes even clearer – had it been a human speaking these words to me…'

'It would not lessen their seriousness, Magistra, nor could you afford to turn them away.' Briala said, dryly. 'It is Celene's desire that I personally impress upon you that this course of action is the one she least desires, yet it is not one that she can prevent for too long. Not if she wishes to keep her crown…'

'A crown I allowed her to keep in the first place, if memory serves,' the dark haired elf hissed.

'King Alistair Therein was also seated by an elf, Magistra Pavus,' Briala replied, slightly leaning forward. 'Given the present circumstances, and your movements of late, this renders their positions even more tenuous.'

Veldrin laughed. 'And does it not cross the minds of those who see all Elvhen as a threat that their troubles only continue because another elf made sure that they are still about, and able to proffer threats, Marquise?'

'That is not enough to make any forget that it was an elf who brought us to the brink,' the Orlesian coolly responded, 'nor that you have had a heavy hand in the return of what the entire continent regards as living nightmares. You are in no position to bargain, here, Magistra Pavus…'

The dark-haired elf knitted her fingers on the table before her, and lowered her glance to them, to disguise the fact that her lips were drawn fiercely thin over her teeth.

'Of course I am not, Marquise Briala,' she said, clearly enunciating each word. 'You've not yet told me what the enlightened monarchs you represent expect of me.'

'The veil needs to be mended,' Briala answered, with no hesitation; Veldrin humourlessly scoffed.

'That alone?' she sneered. 'Why, I shall call for needle and thread and set about it presently!'

'Your humour…' Briala began, curling her upper lip in disgust.

'Not to your taste?' Veldrin said, in cold fury. 'I apologise; your sense of humour is not to my taste either, and neither is your Empress' offer. So, I shall make her, and Queen Anora, an offer of my own. There shall be no mention of an Elvhen plague, and all rumours of one shall be officially dismissed. Within a week, Marquise.'

Briala pleasantly chuckled. 'Interesting,' she said, tilting her head to the side. 'Quite deranged, but, interesting.'

'Let me go even further, then,' Veldrin replied, between clenched teeth. 'Should that not happen, I shall turn the Winter Palace into a floating icicle, and tear all of the humans' hearts out, starting with your vhenan, Empress Celene, and ending with Grand Enchanter Vivienne.'

Briala's facial expression did not change, but her eyes came alive with inquisitiveness; clearly, Veldrin thought, she was trying to read for signs of insanity without appearing too obvious. The Orlesian remained remarkably calm, and relaxed in her chair.

'Very well,' Briala calmly responded. 'What shall your message to Denerim be, then?'

'That it shall be my pleasure to have Arl Teagan, the King's own uncle, as my guest in Minrathous until such a time that Denerim officially denies rumours of a plague as well,' Veldrin replied.

'So, essentially, you want to declare war on the entire continent,' the Orlesian smiled.

Veldrin nodded. 'Declare it and end it on the same day, yes.' she said, dryly. 'Because if anyone thinks that if Tevinter can be challenged now, they did not notice the dragons. You did notice the dragons, didn't you, Briala? Write about them, in detail.'

'You cannot be serious,' Briala chuckled.

'Do I seem like I am jesting, to you? Because, trust me, I am not.'

'Then something very serious must have happened to your mind on Seheron,' the other elf said, cuttingly, 'for if you think that Tevinter will go to war to defend the elves in Orlais, you are quite disturbed yourself.'

Veldrin shook her head. 'I don't need Tevinter's armies. I just need the Lord Watcher, for half a day.'

'Tevinter's dragons helped the Shem of Tevinter crush Elvhenan,' the Orlesian snarled. 'You think they would defend the people now because they owe you?'

'No, of course not,' Veldrin replied. 'But something tells me that, if openly challenged, they would not think much of turning the seat of the false God into an ice tower. In a sense,' the Magistra said, leaning back in her chair and measuring Briala through half-lidded eyes, 'perhaps Southern Thaedas should even be grateful for that course of action – the dismantling of the Chantry will be over and done with in one fell swoop, so to speak, and poor Cassandra will not have to run in fiery circles to prevent a war.'

Under her flawless make-up, Briala visibly paled. 'You are serious,' she neutrally said.

'I would not test me,' Vel answered. She briefly looked aside. 'And yes, Marquise,' she ended, 'something did happen to me on Seheron: I lost nine tenths of my patience span and my entire sense of humour.'

'Noted,' the Orlesian said, reconstructing her practiced smile. It faded in a mere second. 'You do, however, understand that there has been no more of a dangerous time for our remaining people, and that no official admission from Denerim or Val Royaux can control every human peasant in possession of a pitchfork, yes?'

'Better than you do, I think,' Veldrin said, lowering her glance. 'Although,' she added, in a kinder tone, 'I would not start a contest on that count.'

Briala considered the words for a moment, then sighed in a manner that seemed honest. 'You are an even more dangerous person than I remembered,' she said.

'Perhaps,' Veldrin admitted. 'Wisdom would indicate that making an enemy of me is not advisable. Especially not now.'

She sighed, in her turn. 'Look…Briala…I am ascertained that you think my cold reception of you is based on the fact that you are city-born and bear no vallaslin.'

'And it is not?' the other elf asked, with an obliging smile.

'No,' Veldrin resolutely responded. 'I know that your crossing of paths with Keeper Telthen and his clan was scarring to you. Hence, it is also likely that any assurances on my part regarding the fact that Clan Lavellan was radically different would fall on deaf ears.'

'Do you not mean flat?' Briala inquired, her smile still cast in immutable marble.

'The words never crossed my mind, let alone my lips,' Veldrin responded, with a sorrowful shake of her head. 'Clan Lavellan did not even shun humans, though whatever inhabits the heavens, if they are truly not empty, made sure we paid for it. No, my dislike of you is purely personal, instinctual and admittedly, baseless. It is nonetheless real.'

'That clears the air,' the Orlesian neutrally said.

'Good,' Veldrin curtly replied; she stood, and turned her back to Briala, to dreamily glimpse at the slumbering forms of the two dragons. It was an odd view she offered, the Orlesian inwardly considered – from the angle at which she beheld Veldrin, it looked as though Lusacan had been resting on her shoulder.

'The past,' the Magistra said, dreamily, 'is a country I do not long to visit; not often at least, yet an excursion is necessary from time to time, for however painful it may be…when we first met, a decade ago, I had no reason to like, respect or trust you. Your organisation, for as skilled as you were rumoured to be, had accomplished little for the city elves in Orlais, and even less for the Orlesian Dalish.'

Content that she was not being watched, Briala bit her lower lip, and looked away. 'Indeed,' she answered. 'Let us not forget that I did not have a flaming mark upon my hand, as you did.'

'And let us not forget that after you brought the Orlesian civil war to the Dales, you returned to Halam'shiral leaving my people to the mercy of the divided Orlesian armies.' Veldrin replied.

'Is that how you see it?' the red-haired woman questioned, narrowing her eyes. 'Because, Magistra Pavus, I still regard my actions in what concerns the Dalish of the Dales as being the perfect response to the actions they undertook to protect my people through the centuries.'

Veldrin slowly shook her head, and turned to face Briala, a look of great sorrow upon her features. 'What power did you see the Dalish had to protect you and yours? Do you not wonder whether Felassan took you to the Dales, and Keeper Telthen Virnehn specifically to show you we had none?'

'How would you know of Felassan?' Briala asked, trying, but failing to keep her voice level. Veldrin chuckled, and regained her seat.

'Well,' she responded, in mock cheer, 'let me tell you some secrets that will cause the Southern courts to love me even less, Marquise. If any entertains the notion that I defeated Solas on my own, or counting solely on Tevinter's aid, they are mistaken; I took a step beyond what Keeper Telthen did. He merely imprisoned Imshael. I was possessed by him – not in the way in which one falls to weakness in a harrowing. I willingly invited him in, and yes, I used blood magic of a kind that has truly not been seen since the days of the Ancient Imperium.'

The other was too shocked for words. 'A Magister and a maleficarum…' she nonetheless managed to whisper.

'Neither word touches me in the way that you intend them to,' Veldrin calmly shrugged, 'and I shan't have righteous outrage from either you, your Queen or the corpse of the Chantry; the Divine herself has had the good grace to not speak of it to me, and I should not encourage you to do so, either, Marquise, because that very visitation is the reason why you are sitting here. Before Imshael cruelly showed me what truly happened to you in the Dales, you'd not have set foot in the Senate, let alone in this study.'

'Hmph,' Briala scoffed. 'I am delighted to have made such a strong impression upon first greeting…'

'Upon first greeting, no,' the other elf said. 'But let us say the fact that you misled that poor scullery maid – one of your people, I might add - and left her trapped, open to accusations of spying or theft which could only lead to one punishment did not leave a lasting good impression. The ease with which you returned to Celene's bed, with naught but a mere trinket, which I found gathering dust in a safe – not in her nightstand, nor under her pillow, mind, but buried amid piles of other junk, to remind you of your past passions…'

'Ah yes,' the Marquise laughed, this time in open malice, 'the perpetual accusation! Oh, how I have betrayed the people by fighting for a position that granted me some actual power!'

'An accusation you were not so shy to fling into my face the moment that you set foot in here, Marquise. From one person who has learned to hold her nose in human company to another, I would suggest restraint.' Veldrin responded. 'There are at least three other Dalish clans in the Exalted Plains, Briala; I've personally encountered two that did not share Virnehn's insanity, and did not tie my human companions to the wheels of their aravels for a laugh…what purpose, then, was Felassan serving when he selected them, the dangerously mad ones, to take you and Celene to?'

'We now know all too well whose purpose he was serving,' Briala sneered. 'Clan Virnehn had both Imshael and the eluvian, and Fen'Harel needed the pathways.'

'Oh yes, of course,' the Magistra softly uttered. 'But why were you needed? Felassan could have taken you to a peaceful clan, not revealed Celene's identity, then gone on to complete Solas's work. Thousands upon thousands of Elvhen bastards like Michel du Chevin walk the land, and Imshael had a lie and a bribe in store for every soul, human or Elvhen, that crossed his path. Why you, da'len?'

'Don't call me that,' Briala said, her voice suddenly small. 'You're not…You have no right to call me that.'

'Apologies,' Veldrin responded, sounding truly contrite and giving the other pause. 'I think…' she followed, her voice dropping to a whisper, 'I believe he took you with him because he needed to rid you of the illusion that the Dalish could save the city elves. Like his master before him, he needed to tear statues down, because…'

'…the mightiest of statues cast the mightiest of shadows, and in those shadows, nothing grows anew,' the Orlesian whispered, in her turn. 'We could not help ourselves, while lulled in the dream that you would someday…He wasn't serving Fen'Harel,' she quietly said. 'He was teaching me. And he paid dearly for it.'

'Ar abelas,' the Magistra said, respectfully bowing her head. 'Felassan saw people, where Solas merely saw husks, and Solas himself despised us all, Dalish or city born.'

Briala laughed. 'Yes, as a robber might, after relieving one of one's purse, beating them down in the muck, then mocking them for being a dirty, penniless beggar.'

'An apt analogy, I fear, but some of it, Briala, is upon us all, not merely him. It was us who started seeing two nations instead of one people, and it was us who drew those lines – if I could speak for all the Dalish, I would apologise so deeply to your people; far easier it was to call the city born cowards for having surrendered, than to admit that we could do nothing for you, or even for ourselves…'

'So, have we truly lost, now, Keeper Lavellan?' the Orlesian asked, all her masks gone and her eyes raw with life, anger, and, above all, hope. 'All of these ladders that we have climbed, all of these humans we have…endured, has it all been for naught?'

'It's hardly useful to be a battering ram if there's no army to follow once the gates have fallen.' Veldrin said softly. 'And neither of us has an army. How many of us are there left in the South? Twenty five thousand? Twenty?'

'Eight,' Briala curtly replied. 'We'll never rebuild numbers. Celene's heart, I swear to you, is not in this threat I bring, but she prizes her crown - she must be seen and heard making it. I too prize her crown for fear of worse, as I always have…despite…'

Veldrin shook her head. 'No, don't. I know you treasure Celene for herself alone as well, and I am hardly one to advise on choice of lovers.'

She sighed. 'The truth of the matter,' Vel said, slowly, looking down to her hands, 'is that I understand the South's concerns, but can do little to alleviate them; I do not know how to mend the veil, and I have sadly come fear that the only person who does know how to is very unwilling to share that information at this point.'

'It is not only the veil that is of great concern,' Briala reminded, keeping her voice low. She could, however, not refrain from smirking in displeasure when Veldrin outright laughed.

'Well, Marquise,' the Magistra said, 'that is one problem I definitely do not know how to address, and for many reasons, don't even wish to.'

'You understand that once this is conveyed, you will be proclaimed a traitor outright.'

'I thought you too, understood that I am not vying for court approval anymore, and I see not how anyone who has no oath of fealty from me can proclaim me a traitor.' Vel snappily responded, meeting the other elf's gaze. 'Tevinter's dragons are the only means by which I can keep the nations of Southern Thaedas with their feet to the flames, a leverage that I have told you I shall not be shy in applying. The only thing I…we…still stand to lose are the people, both yours and mine, and the only way we will survive, as a race, is if Arlathan survives with no human interference.'

It was Briala's turn to laugh. 'And you think that the Old Gods would allow that? The very same Old Gods that helped the Shem crush Elvhenan?'

'The reason for their spite against the people is chained to a post in a dark cellar,' Vel answered, in a calm voice. 'Their spite against the people is fading – I do not see why they would not allow an Elvhen nation; it will be, after all, the first nation to worship them fully, after Tevinter.'

'And that sits well with you,' the Orlesian said, in a low growl.

'My indifference cannot be more poignant.' Veldrin said, dryly. 'I have held lies and falsities as faith before, and so has everyone else, human or Elvhen. You'll forgive me if I have come to see religion of any kind as no more than a tool of social control and a political sledgehammer, and, truth be told, Briala, I rather prefer Gods whose first divine mandate is not ordering an Exalted March.'

'Which they could have,' she followed, in an equally dry tone, 'against Arlathan itself, or against the Chantry – and still, the only unrest we are having, in Tevinter at least, is a rather tame and, by past standards, boring Magisterium debate on whether a woman can take over the reins of the Maker's temple in Tevinter.'

'By boring you imply that the pompous fools are not killing each other in droves,' Briala said.

'Not on a regular scale, no.' Veldrin shrugged. 'Stubbornness may yet claim some casualties, but, in the end…The Chantry will be united, and will survive. No,' she reiterated, leaning back in her chair, 'the Old Gods are not my priority, as they, at least, have not made the annihilation of our people their priority.'

'Why would they have?' the Orlesian inquired, cranking her nose. 'Only a madman slaughters all its cattle all at once, and dead oxen pull no carts.'

'True,' the Magistra conceded, with a wry smile, 'but there is nothing stopping them from raiding Arlathan and bringing it to Tevinter's heel, either. As your enlightened leaders have noted, the Imperium is in quite dire straits without its…oxen. And still, they made no move thus far – I'd call that hope, though I assume there'll be a price attached to it.'

'There always is,' Briala dispassionately remarked. 'I…' she carefully continued, 'am not convinced; you have thrown your lot in with Tevinter entirely, and the Archon is wily; why else would he so hastily push for Divine Victoria to have both chantries at her call? She is, after all, the only one who could call an Exalted March against the Imperium. With his so called generosity, he ties her hands, and with his dragons, he bides for time.'

'The Gods could not care less about an Exalted March,' Veldrin responded, with a subdued chuckle. 'Not even if Orlais, Nevarra and Ferelden all marched together…'

'You truly think them Gods, then?' Briala asked, in great disgust.

'For all practical purposes, they might as well be…Your Queen and your masked empire paid little heed to my warnings of Solas' true powers; these two are not inferior to him. In fact…but never mind,' she stopped herself, waving her hand to change discourse. 'The other reason for which I would not make enemies of the Old Gods is that they remain, in my view, the only ones who might be able to mend the veil, in some future. I fear that if they had known how to, they might already have done it…'

The Orlesian shook her head. 'Why would they? They cannot care whether the veil is there or not.'

'Not in the same way that we do, no,' Veldrin thoughtfully nodded. 'But there is danger still beyond the weakened barrier, danger far greater than the Imperium. The Old Gods found a way out of their prisons, so others might as well, sooner or later. As intimidating as they might be to the continent, they will not present such a danger to further seven of their kind…'

'Of their kind? Briala frowned. 'Of their kind…' she repeated, mulling over the words for a few seconds, before her eyes started to glow with equal measures of disbelief and understanding. 'You cannot mean…'

Vel nodded, and even all Briala's practiced control could not prevent her from darting to her feet. 'You cannot mean…' she gasped, 'you cannot mean what I think you…'

The Magistra nodded again. 'Our legends always said that Fen'Harel tricked both the Forgotten Ones and the Evanuris into their respective cages. What we got wrong was that we always thought these to have been simultaneous events – they were not, or at least not in the way in which we regard time. Perhaps not even in the way that the first people regard time, for we remembered the Creators well, and fully forgot the others, or simply believing legends that, with every generation, floated further and further from the truth…'

'And you believe that these…' Briala whispered.

'I don't believe,' Vel curtly said. 'I know.'

'Oh heavens,' the Marquise breathed, dropping back to her seat. 'So even this threat can be traced back to the people, in some way! If this gets out…Does Tevinter even know?' she feverishly asked.

'A very restricted few do, yes,' Veldrin said. 'Even this gives me hope, however – they risk nothing by a full reveal, yet that would spark a civil war the likes of which the Imperium has not experienced since Andraste.'

'Of course,' Briala muttered. 'Not many will accept that all this time they've worshipped the first people…and obviously,' she laughed, an insane glint in her eyes, 'the South will now have cause to blame the people for the Blights, as well…why tell me this?' she asked, looking to Veldrin in open fury.

'Because you know what will befall our kind if this truly gets out, Marquise,' the Magistra said, kindly. 'You are, therefore, the best custodian of this knowledge, and I shan't have Orlesian agents stumbling upon it by chance; while others of your countrymen might see it as a good way of destabilising Tevinter and giving the Southern nations room to breathe, you are only one who understands that this would be the final nail in the Elvhen nation's coffin. The first of our people may be extremely hard to kill, but we, alas, are not. Should any of yours look too deeply into this, you'll point them elsewhere.'

'You do grasp that all it takes to undo us is Leliana, if she comes by this knowledge,' Briala said, returning to herself, but nonetheless running her fingers over her intricate hairdo, without pulling a single hair out of place.

'United, and with the Chantry at our side, we can control for that,' Vel thoughtfully replied.

'I am unsure that we both understand the same thing by that phrase, Keeper Lavellan,' the Orlesian said, drawing her lips thin – for the first time, Veldrin was taken aback, for this was neither what she had expected, nor was it something that she'd wanted, in her heart of hearts.

'We'll cross that bridge when we come to it,' she non-comittaly said. 'Let's hope we shan't have to…Solas' path to Elvhen restoration has ended, Marquise,' Veldrin continued, biting her lower lip, 'but ours is just starting and it is up to us to see how far along it we can travel. We're not of the same nation, Briala, but we are of the same people; if there is a way to preserve Arlathan, and at least partially restore ourselves, we should perhaps not be enemies.'

'Although we shall never be friends,' Briala answered, with a swift nod.

'Time will tell,' Vel shrugged.

Briala looked away, and breathed in deeply. 'You've given me nothing that I can write back to Celene except a threat. This dance,' she sighed, shifting her glance to the ceiling, 'has definitely not gone my way. We've never truly met, before this day, have we Keeper Lavellan?' she softly uttered.

'But it is good that we have met, this day,' Veldrin responded, with an honest shrug.

'I wish to trust you so,' the Orlesian said, swallowing dry, 'but while my heart so wishes, my head tells me you are a snake in the tall grass which sways in a storm's wind, and under better cover calculates its strike.'

Veldrin laughed.

'Believe me or test me, Marquise, I care not. It's not as if you had a choice. Think on the words you share with your Empress, but do remind her that maybe the survival of her race, even under Tevinter's wing might be preferable to its annihilation. Which is, I swear to you, what will befall them if the ones we thought our Creators will come free of their cages too…It's also worth remembering that it was Celene, not I, to murder your mother for sport and affirmation.' Veldrin grinned. 'Just so we remember where we actually stand, in terms of friends.'

Briala stood, giving no sign of having registered the painful, yet truthful aside.

'I shall need you to remain in Minrathous,' Veldrin spoke. 'Our people will need you to remain here…I need no worded answer from you,' the Magistra said. 'If you stay, I shall prove myself. If you leave, it will become more difficult. This is the moment that Felassan raised you for, Briala. He paid a dear enough price. Believe me or test me; prove he was right, or show yourself that he was wrong.'

The Orlesian curtsied gracefully.

'I've come for honesty, and I have no way to fault you in delivering it. I am grateful,' she uttered, all of her masks firmly in place. 'The Orlesian Empire is grateful, too; your words, all of your words shall be faithfully relayed. I truly feel graced.'

'Don't mention it, cousin,' Veldrin replied, smiling.

Still, her hand on the door handle, Briala hesitated.

'Tell me, Magistra,' she asked, with her back turned. 'Did your vhenan kill Felassan himself, or did he leave it to another?'

'Solas trusts none,' Veldrin said, clenching her jaws, and feeling acid tears rising in her eyes. 'He did it himself.'

Briala looked over her shoulder, her eyes laden with tears, in turn.

'I'm glad he lives only to suffer,' she said, opening the door, then quietly closing it behind her, and once the door closed, Veldrin rested her forehead in her hand and pointlessly wept, enough, she thought, for both herself and the Orlesian who could not weep a single tear, unless she locked herself within her bath chamber, in this foreign, alien, and hostile city.

As she wept, though, Veldrin Pavus, born Lavellan, made arrangements for the Marquise's long term stay amid the humans that she hated more than those of Orlais; a place, she thought, where if Briala needed to shed her heavy masks and let her heart ache, she could do so within her own chamber. A place where Briala would not be spied upon, or pitied. A place where she'd be feared and respected.

Later, as the sun hid behind Lusacan's figure, such a request for leave to remain in Minrathous came to her, perfectly worded, and sealed, with not a teardrop to mar the penmanship – a letter that demanded just such a place as Veldrin had thought of.

She dispatched her letters in turn, and watched the dragons stretch their wings.

'We are the last of the Elvhen,' she whispered to herself. 'Never again shall we submit.'

For those who have not dabbled in DA lore as much as we have, Felassan is a character from Patrick Weeks' Masked Empire, which is the back story of Briala and Celene. I, Abstract, loved the book, and would encourage you to buy it and read it. I read it after Trespasser, which made it even better, because, well, Solas is there, everywhere, without making a single appearance or saying a single word. Without wishing to spoil, it is Felassan that gives Briala access to the eluvian network, thus betraying Solas in the worst possible way. We learn a lot more of Fen'Harel from Felassan's tales than we do in the game proper. Beautiful novel short, it is Felassan who is swayed by the idea that humans and elves can coexist; he is Briala's mentor, a thoroughly lovable guy, and well...

In the one unnamed short appearance Solas makes, he kills his own agent without a word. Good reason, I find, for Briala to hate Solas' guts, and Vel's as well, as a side dish.

Everything else in this piece that sounds really strange (like Celene killing Briala's mum) also pertains to the Masked Empire.

...and that convo did not go quite the way Calpernia hoped it would, did it? 'Cuz these ladies may be like two cats in a bag, but they do have a common purpose. Once they are out of the bag, that is. While still inside the bag, they bloody hate each other.

Thank you for reading and commenting, we really do wish you would comment more,

Abstract & IvI