Blessed are they who stand before

The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.

Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just.

Benedictions 4

Patience, why are you living with the illusion that we are the only ones…

'Did you hear that?' Veldrin asked, turning to Dorian in fright; the man nodded.

'I told you they call you Lady Patience,' he said.

'Still makes me want to puke.' Vel answered. 'And I have not been drinking, so…'

She sighed and sat on Razikale's wing, wistfully looking out over the Nocean sea. 'No all-knowing God would see me as patient.'

'I think, in fact, they are the only ones who do see the patience in you. Myself aside, of course.' Dorian replied.

It was not hard to think of what had caused his words; a mere fortnight before, Veldrin had crossed paths with Alexius Hadrian in the hallway of the Pavus mansion – the man had had tears running down his cheeks, and rushed to leave as if a bear had been giving him chase.

'I am sorry, Vel, I am so sorry…' Altus Hadrian had said.

She'd not understood, and moved to bar his path. 'Lexi, come on. I am alright with you not attending my swearing in – no reason to be that sorry. Stay the night,' she'd said. 'Whatever you and Dorian had a kerfuffle about, he loves you more than to just kick you out. We will see to it in the morning; you can sleep on my couch…'

'If only,' Lexi had said; she'd frowned in surprise. 'But he, in no uncertain terms told me to remove my useless self from his house, and not even dare speak to you, so…'

'I've never heard that one before.' Vel had cautiously said. 'He's just pissed, though why he'd say such a thing is beyond me…Let's let the night be counsel; it's my house too, and it's a long sail to Quarinus.'

'No, he is right…You trusted me, and I betrayed your trust, Vel,' Lexi had said.

'You can't mean that. Come on. When Dorian is pissed off, he is really pissed off, don't take him seriously…How many bottles in was he?' she asked.

'You don't get it,' the man had whimpered, meeting her glance but not being able to sustain it. 'It was I who betrayed you to Cassius,' Lexi said. 'This, all of this, is my fault…'

She'd felt anger and taken a seat, for the simple reason that her knees were weak; of course, she'd blandly thought – Leliana's traitor, the one who knew about the veil manipulation, the eluvian, about the tranquillity…about Kieran's whereabouts, Morrigan's presence…And it had been there, staring her in the face…

'Whatever payment you received,' Vel had shakily said, 'better be worth it. What was it he gave you we could not? What…'

'Do not lash me as well, please…I am a dead man walking already, and have been since that accursed night…I did not sell you to him,' Lexi said; he, too, was trembling, and kindness prevailed. 'If you believe nothing else, just grant me this. I simply had no choice…'

She had believed him, and though her anger had not been assuaged, it had not had time to surpass her surprise and sorrow.

'Have a seat,' she'd said. 'Come on. We have been friends for a good five years. The least I can do is let you explain. Come on.'

Lexi had looked at her though eyes rimmed red by many tears shed in silence, and crashed onto a chair, hiding his face in his hands. 'Dorian merely cast me out. You will kill me, when you learn...I'm not even afraid of it, you know, you would take great mercy on me if you did, so, please…Kill me,' he begged. 'I cannot live without Dorian, and this is what I must do if…Cassius took me and put me to pain, Vel, but I did not even gain my life by that surrender…. I told him all I knew not because I feared death, Vel, please believe me, oh Gods, oh, Gods…'

'Why, then, Lexi? you must have known that Dorian loves you as no other; he loves you above me.' Veldrin had said. 'He'd have forgiven you that you that in a heartbeat!'

'Cassius threatened to out me,' Lexi had said. 'Both me and Dorian…'

She had raised her palms to the merciless heavens. 'Dorian would not give a flying fuck about it, Lexi. You know that – how stupid are you?'

'Yes, well, kaffas!' Lexi had rasped, raising her eyes to hers, and finally sustaining her glance. 'I know Dorian would not give a flying fuck – because he is a Pavus. You are a Pavus, and both of you are national fucking treasures. What will it take for either of you to grasp that I am not part of the gilded elite you are part of? I am a little mage with a little name – I cannot afford to be outed. I have a family, Veldrin, a family whose fortunes depend on which hole I stick my dick into…'

'We are a family too, Lexi,' she'd muttered. 'Would have been unpleasant, granted, but it's not like anyone who cares to know doesn't know…Outing Dorian would be a storm in a tea cup at this point, it would have been a storm in a wine glass before, and I would be right there to deny it into smithereens – heck, if Cassius even tried it, I'd say it's me you're sleeping with, not Dorian…How stupid were you?' she had repeated. 'You should have come back home and told us, not run to Quarinus, and we'd have fixed it. Bloody hell!'

'Not like this, Amata,' Lexi had said. 'You don't understand. For as grave as the consequences of my treason are, on a grand scale, my personal treason is greater…I have a son on the way, within a fortnight. Do you see it now, Vel?' he'd pleadingly whispered. 'Do you see…'

And then, yes, she saw, it was all clear as day, and it was her turn to avert her eyes, not in shame, but in anger. No wonder, she'd thought, no wonder Dorian was that pissed. To have a son two weeks from being born, Lexi must have…

'You've been sleeping with your wife,' Vel had whispered. 'And not in the last month…All this time…You betrayed Dorian, not by selling us out, but by resigning yourself to what Tevinter always meant you to be…'

'My name is so small,' he'd whispered. 'I had to...He doesn't understand, he is a bloody scion of the great House Pavus, he doesn't need to play by the rules, but I…I destroyed everything, because I cannot eschew them – I needed a child. I needed public, screaming confirmation that I am not a deviant…And, as I spoke to him, now, I realised none of this is relevant in the face of his anger – no, not his anger...his pain, I…I crushed the heart of the one person I love,' Lexi said, in a broken voice, 'and I know now that love him more than I love my name. But it's too late…'

'Oh fuck, Lexi,' Veldrin had breathed out. 'This is the last thing we needed now.'

'Do you think he can ever forgive me? Do you think you could…you could ever forgive me?' the man had begged, leaving his chair only to kneel before her, and take her and in his. 'It is by my cowardice that the one you love…'

She'd wanted to punch him in the face, but she hadn't – he seemed so frail, scared, and wounded that she could not add to his torment. 'Like you said,' Veldrin had bitterly responded, 'It's a bit late, now.'

'You are no longer wanted in the Pavus mansion,' a guard sternly said. 'Magister Pavus ordered that you should be removed, especially if you tried to speak to the Magistra. Altus Hadrian. Please depart without needing employment of force. You are no longer welcome.'

'Vel, please…' Lexi begged.

She'd nodded for him alone, and extended her hand, bidding the guard to wait.

'Can you give me some time?' she'd asked. Lexi had risen his glance to hers, in insane hope. 'Can you…fucking…wait?' Veldrin had snapped at the guard, who'd pressed in closer.

'Magister Pavus ordered…'

'I know what he ordered!' she had yelled, standing and menacingly closing in on the man in her turn. 'Go tell him his wife is having a strop, and wait a god-damned minute!'

'Magistra,' the guard had said, not sounding in the least intimidated, but rather taking a tone of fatherly kindness, 'it is for your own good as well.'

'I know,' she'd whispered. 'But I can't let it end like this. I can't let them end like this.'

The guard had seemed doubtful, and, for a second, glanced upon her as if he'd been about to embrace her, wife of his master or not, elf or not. 'I'll tell him you don't understand Tevene when you are having a strop,' he'd said, granting unexpected reprieve. 'Elves,' he'd sighed. 'Women. I'll go tell him…But it will only be a minute. Please, Magistra. He needs to leave – the Magister is out of sorts. Badly,' he'd said, 'out of sorts.'

He'd mercifully spun about and taken no haste in ascending the stairs.

'Alright,' Veldrin had rushed to say, turning to Lexi. 'Go speak to Maevaris about becoming her Altus…'

'If I tell her what I just told you, she'll stab me in the eye with a hair needle!' Lexi had breathed.

'I see no other way in which you can remain in Minrathous, or return to it for a meaningful length of time, after…after your son is born.'

'You speak as is I wished to be present in Quarinus,' the man had bitterly said. 'Which…'

'…which is absolutely necessary, given how far this all has gone,' Veldrin had dryly replied. 'It will hardly do for a loving father not to hold his new born aloft to the joyful and relieved House Hadrian. Besides, while you may care nothing for his mother, your wife, you will care for your child – because it's a child, Lexi, not a mantelpiece ornament or a step on a fucking ladder...'

'Would you believe me if I told you that I…'

'No,' she had briskly interrupted. 'And that, above all, is what I don't want to hear, because if I do, I will wring your neck; I'll tell Mae to take you as Altus, and that she should only blind you, and not kill you, alright?' Vel had said, rushing over to the coachman's little desk and starting to scribble, angrily and hastily; so hastily, in fact, that she broke the tips of three quills before she managed to finish the note. Since tears were running down her cheeks now, too, she tore the parchment in a few places as well, and completely messed up her diphthongs, but…

'There,' she'd said, handing Lexi her scribbled note. 'Go.'

'Vel…'

'Just go.' Veldrin had said. 'Just…just give Dorian time to lick his wounds, and come back to Minrathous in due time. If you are with Mae, you'll be close enough and far enough at the same time…We'll live though this, Lexi. We've lived through worse.'

'I haven't,' the man had said, standing and bowing his head so low his chin touched his chest.

'Well, that's how we gilded elites learn in crises,' the elf had spat. 'Go.'

'What if he never forgives me, Vel?' Lexi had shakily asked.

'Then, between myself and Magistra Tilani, we'll at least make sure your son is born to fortune and a legacy.' She had said, making it obvious that he had not attained her forgiveness either. That he probably never would.

She had ascended the stairs to Dorian's room three steps at a time; she'd not thought of the damage Lexi had caused them both – as the guard passed by her, on his way down, she'd thought of Dorian alone, finally alone.

She'd found him burning letters, and she knew whose letters they were.

'Amatus, don't.' she'd said, carefully closing the door behind herself; she'd counted five empty bottles of wine upon the mantelpiece.

'And why not?' Dorian had asked, smiling. 'All these are lies. He was supposed to be like me. He was to marry in name only. But he has not, he's fucked her, for who knows how long - he has a child on the way…He could at least….at least told me his wife is with child by another man! He could at least have tried to lie!'

'That makes him less brave than you are, but it does not make him a bad man. Dorian, brother, don't…'

'Would you forgive Solas? If, in all this time you were waiting, with cobwebs growing across your cunt, he'd been dipping his dongle in every pond in sight?' he'd asked. 'What am I saying? He'd never betray you like that, nor would you betray him - both you and Solas are too perfect for any inconvenience of human reality to touch either of you! You are not human in the first place!'

'This is your life you're burning now, Dorian.'

He'd defiantly half unwound a parchment, then threw it in the flames – the smell of burned seal wax filled the room.

'I'm burning a lie. Or well,' he'd sombrely considered, 'not one. Many.'

'Stinks like hell, to be honest.' Vel had said.

'Yes, if only lies stunk when they were uttered, then we'd not say them, write them or believe them. It's only when we burn them that they stink outright, and that is how we can tell…You know what? Why don't we…' Dorian asked, staggering towards her.

'Alright,' the woman had said, eyes wide in surprise. 'Our guard told me you are badly out of sorts, but I didn't imagine it was this bad…'

'It's the most logical thing in the world,' he'd spat. 'People are doing it left and right, it seems, and it's not like either you or I have anything left to lose…'

'I still do,' Veldrin had softly said; she'd nonetheless not stepped away from him, and allowed him to steady himself by putting his arms around her shoulders. She'd embraced him in turn, tightly, and it was only then that she'd felt his fury melt to despair.

'No, you don't,' he'd sobbed, hiding his face in her hair. 'You'll never have Solas…You'll never even have revenge on him…Not…this kind.' Dorian had followed, struggling to even articulate words. 'And it's the only kind of…of revenge you could have; the world is taking its due, but…you…'

'You have seen Solas,' she whispered.

'Yeash, I have,' He answered. 'Or did you think that Lexi thought to confess, even when the inevitable is a fortnight in coming? Ha! That's why…we should…just…'

'Amatus,' she'd whispered, feeling she was shivering in turn, and pushing him away only far enough to meet his glance and caress his cheek. 'No…'

'If we…You'd rip Solas' heart out, Vel,' Dorian had hissed. 'You would…Not the Imperium, not the Old Gods, just…you.'

She'd softly shaken her head. 'But I don't want that, Dorian.'

He did not seem to hear her. 'You should though,' he'd stuttered. 'You should – it would be,' Dorian whispered, 'the only thing you've done for yourself – not for the continent, not for the people - since that accursed Mark, which was his fault in the first place…'

'Let's get you to lie down,' she'd gently said; he'd allowed himself to be led, but he'd not let go of her when he'd tumbled above the covers – his grasp was stronger than she'd ever felt it, but she'd still not felt a single tingle of fear as she'd allowed herself to be dragged onto the bed. She fell above him, but slipped off and curled by his side, holding his hands to her chest.

'You know,' Veldrin had tried to joke, 'I think that was close to the classic excuse of – and I tripped, fell, and landed on his…'

'Yeah, another one Lexi could have tried,' Dorian had mumbled. 'But we can't…we can't do it like that, Amata. We have to,' he uttered, with solemnity only a king or a completely drunken man could muster, 'we have to,' he'd hiccupped, 'be deliberate about it.'

He'd lifted himself on his elbow, and looked at her from above. 'As deliberate as they were when they did it to us,' he'd breathed.

Veldrin had chuckled, but decisively shaken her head. 'No, Dorian.'

'I won't be as disappointing as you imagine, you know, I've been with girls before,' he'd childishly protested.

'Women, Dorian,' she had sternly corrected. 'And that was when you were thirteen, which is at least twenty-five years ago.'

'Was it?' the man had frowned, earnestly trying to remember. 'Really?'

'Yees,' she had laughed, 'it was. Felix told me that's how you and Alexius Gereon met – he found you in a brothel entangled with at least four ladies of great skill but ill-repute, and…'

'…and I invited him to join us, yeash,' Dorian had nodded, in sudden remembrance; his eyelids were heavy, Vel had noted. He'd soon fall asleep. 'What was Alexius doing in a brothel anyway?' Dorian asked, mostly of himself – his mind was wondering from his pain, and that was a good sign as well, Veldrin had thought. 'Livia was still alive, and she was one fiery…'

'He was looking for you,' the elf had frowned.

'At my father's request,' Dorian had sourly said, making her immediately regret her words. 'Because the great hope of House Pavus could not be…Eh,' he'd all but literally burped. 'Magister Halward Pavus must have been relieved that it was girls…women. Whatever. I should've known right then and there I'll never win. Deviants never do – sooner or later they marry women, they make babies, they surrender, lest society buries them or they bury themselves in shame of what they are…I don't want to delay the inevitable anymore, Vel. At least I love you, and you love me. I didn't buy you; you didn't buy me, let's just…Be my wife. Truly, be my wife…Make him…them…pay.'

He'd briefly closed his eyes, and the hot tears on his eyelashes had dripped onto her face, mixing with her own when they ran down her cheeks. He'd trailed them with his fingers.

'Lexi thinks that you and I are the winners of this world,' Dorian had said. 'But we, alone, only ever truly lose; what is all I have, if I can never love or trust…what do our power and our wealth give us, if…'

'You don't know life without wealth and power, Dorian,' she'd kindly responded. 'You were born with your name, as you were born with your green eyes, your pleasant face and your magic. You were born human. You can no more imagine yourself Lexi than you can imagine yourself an elf.'

'Human…Is that why you…'

He'd not gotten the chance to finish the question, for the woman had lifted herself up and kissed him on the lips, in such a way that no kiss between them had happened before. He'd parted her lips to hers, and slipped his tongue in her mouth, even as he pulled himself atop her, and caressed her breasts with the sides of his hands – he placed one knee between hers, parting them slightly, and Veldrin lost herself to the kiss and the touch, then lost herself to the kisses he trailed over her cheeks, and down on the curve of her neck…

'You don't disgust me in the way you think you do,' Veldrin had whispered. 'You do not disgust me at all.'

She clasped his face in his hands, and lifted it from her own; his eyes were tightly closed, and his tears kept falling on her cheeks. 'We're better than this, Dorian.'

'Why, Vel, why…' he'd chocked out, even before she'd slipped her hand between their bodies to his soft, unwilling groin to offer an unspoken answer. 'I love you, so much.' Dorian had hotly breathed in her ear. 'You can help me with that…you can, I can show you, how, I won't degrade you, I…'

Still, there was only sorrow and loss. 'Children should be made in love,' she'd whispered, 'not in revenge on others, or for gain…Let's not repeat Lexi's blunder, alright? Let's not…let's not feed this heinous cycle that makes Tevinter what it is. Let's just be us.'

'I do love you,' he'd said as if he had not heard her, 'and, as for having human children…you know all too well,' he'd growled, 'that you will never be one of your own people again. Never – have you seen how Abelas looks at you? Solas took that from you a long time ago – why would you not give me, us…at least, at least…this?'

Vel had run her fingers though his hair, and for a moment, a mere moment, allowed herself to imagine the unimaginable; for however drunk he might have been…It was not necessarily the temptation of sex – not alone, at least, though her body's response to his touch had been far stronger than she'd thought it would be, certainly stronger than his body's response to hers. But it was not that.

The temptation of normality, the temptation of a life not spent waiting…for a lover she'd never have, for recognition she would never attain, of a life where she was neither national treasure, nor public good, at least within these walls and with this man she did, indeed, care for. And Dorian was right, she'd thought – there was perhaps grace to surrender when defeat was inevitable; there would never be true passion between them, yet what use was passion when it had dealt them blow after personal blow…

She'd once more kissed his lips, then shifted minutely to kiss his forehead; Dorian's eyes were dull, not with sleep, or drink, but with such hopelessness as she had never seen in him – the brief, foolish temptation turned to dull ache, and settled in the pit of her stomach.

'They only win if we let them, Amatus,' Vel had said, and this was the final no. He understood it as such, and pressed no further, simply letting his cold forehead fall to her shoulder. 'If I thought for one moment that you could live with denying what you are…'

Dorian had sighed, and rolled to lie by her side, his forearm across his face.

'Not even I can fight alone, forever, Vel…I mean,' he'd whispered again. 'I don't know why the fuck you and Solas do it, but I fucking get how – he waits for you, you wait for him, and in this, neither of you is truly...without the other, no matter how hopeless it all is. I really meant every word I said to him, knowing that you are still stupidly abstinent and faithful to him…really…he…It lifted his heart…and I want to take that from him, now…Gods, I would take it from the entire world if I could, because if I can't have it, why should…anyone…'

'I am alone, now, Amata, truly alone... I thought I and Lexi had what you had, and now I know…'

Veldrin had leaned her forehead on his shoulder. 'You and Lexi have more than me and Solas ever had. You had a life. We had three kisses and some stinted caresses; you...'

'We had a lie,' Dorian said. 'An eight year long lie. And it is not the infidelity I cannot stomach, Amata,' he sighed. 'If he'd just gotten drunk and…'

'It is the cowardice,' she nodded.

'…and where it led,' Dorian weakly uttered. 'And to think on that night, on our last night he had the brazen daring to ask if I was sleeping with you!'

He chuckled madly. 'He asked if I was sleeping with you, while he…'

'I know,' the woman had whispered. 'I know, Dorian. I am so very sorry. But,' she had brought herself to say, 'he loves you. If he could take it back…'

'Don't even try,' he'd hissed. 'That's why I didn't want him talking to you. I knew he'd try, and then you'd try, and then that Mae would try, and in the end, it would just hurt more…I don't know what you're made of, woman. If you knew, if you truly knew what's happening to Solas in those dungeons, because of Lexi's…'

She'd breathed in and out, deeply; she'd felt him shudder, and he'd held her closer, mercifully remaining silent.

'It'll pass,' Vel had softly said.

'Like it did for you, eh?' he'd muttered. 'Sorry,' he'd slurred. 'You don't deserve that. Sorry. I love you,' Dorian whispered.

'I know,' she'd simply said. 'Look,' she'd followed, wiping her tears with the back of her sleeve. 'Do me a deal.'

He'd huffed. 'Take advantage of a drunken and heartbroken man, will you?'

'If I'd wanted that, I'd ask you to play Wicked Grace,' Veldrin had half joked. 'No. Let's just sleep on it, alright? If you still feel like baby making in the morning, we'll find you a clean, discrete Antivan professional to make to make a baby with. One that vaguely looks like me, of course,' she'd laughed, without mirth.

'It will be Soporati,' Dorian whispered; she'd lifted herself on her elbow and frowned.

'Are you for real, Magister Pavus? Plastered and heartbroken, but still with your eyes on the prize, eh?' Veldrin had shot. 'And then, you'd blame Lexi…'

'Don't go there,' the man said. 'Just…'

'Mages can have magic-less children,' she'd implacably answered. 'Felix was a prime example; plus, you can't know which blood will prevail, so, if you still feel like taking revenge in this way, and letting your father's ghost beat you is still not a concern, we'll do that. I'll take it as mine, we'll handsomely pay the mother to vanish, if you wish, or we can just take her as a nursemaid, so she can be with her babe, and you'll have your revenge – petty and misguided as it is.'

'Don't go…'

'There?' she'd gently said.

'No, just don't go.' Dorian had sleepily uttered. 'I don't want to be alone, tonight.'

'You'll never be alone, Amatus,' Veldrin had said, putting her hand on his chest. Dorian had put his hand above hers, whispered – 'Deal.'

Then slowly, sob by sob and sigh by sigh, finally fallen asleep.

She'd taken his boots off, fought to free him from his robes – for, when he was asleep, he truly felt as heavy as a log - and rolled him under the covers, then lay above them by his side, still holding his hand. Despite his muttered protests, she'd prodded him from time to time, when his snoring got too loud.

She too, had fallen asleep at the break of dawn.

And, yes, Vel now thought, lying back on the dragon Goddess' wing, perhaps Patience was not that ill-fitting a name after all.

Razikale caressed her hair.

'We sometimes choose our names,' Razikale said. 'Sometimes, our names choose us.'

'Who else but Patience,' Lusacan followed, in a deep growl, 'would come before us to restore future to a people who'll hate, fear and malign her regardless? As once we were hated, feared and maligned…Dawnbringer,' the dragon said, minutely shifting his gigantic head towards Dorian, 'thou who have nothing to fear of us stand ill at ease…'

'We shallt not hold your speech with Pride against you,' Razikale said, shifting to sit up, but continuing to distractedly caress Veldrin's hair. 'Admission of his crimes is fairer to thine ears coming from his lips than accusations of the same would be, coming from ours.'

'It is not that,' the human managed. 'It's simply…'

He cast an uncertain, and unwillingly frightened glace to Lusacan; the dragon snorted in dismay, all but realising Dorian's fears and blowing all three humanoids from the top of the gate, but relented and took his human form. In the faint light of the moon, it was hard to see that Razikale had assumed hers only by half – or rather, that she'd assumed her true shape, for her ears were pointed and her eyes slanted.

'Thank you, Lord Watcher, Dorian said; Lusacan frowned slightly.

'You know that mine change of shapes makes me not in the least different in power or thought,' he said.

'He simply thinks that it makes thee less likely to squish their puny forms than if you were, you know…' Razikale laughed, taking a deep breath of her pipe, then exhaling a puff of smoke in the very precise contours of a dragon in mid-flight. 'By mistake, of course,' she wisely added.

The expression on her brother's features only soured. 'Yes, yes,' he said, 'not willingly, as I might do with Pride's defeated minion, if he dared face himself to me with notion of his master's righteousness still plaguing his mind.'

'Perhaps it is then wise of Abelas not to show himself,' Veldrin said softly.

'Ah well, little sister,' Razikale said, still smiling, despite the fact that her tone was ice cold and chilling, 'he'll come, and he'll come begging not on his knees, but on all fours, as befits him, if he hopes to spare his people the fate that he and his past master, not to mention the current one awarded ours.'

'What do you mean?' Vel asked, in a trembling voice; the dragon Gods exchanged a glance.

'Thou hath not shared Pride's long past deeds of questionable valour with her, Dawnbringer,' Lusacan spoke, narrowing his eyes.

Dorian hesitated, and lowered his glance. 'You already know I did not,' he said, 'and I would beg…'

Unexpectedly and awkwardly, the Lord Watcher patted him on the shoulder. 'You do not beg, Dawnbringer. You merely ask…yet, Dorian of the Pavus line, some truths should not be hidden from the worthy. Thou think that they would cause the Lady Patience greater pain, yet they might lessen it, if spoken without malice...'

'What did he do this time,' Veldrin sighed. 'What more…'

''Twas not him alone,' Razikale responded; she took a thoughtful drag of her pipe, closed her eyes and expired towards the sky. 'There is no hiding that in your heart and in your mind you hold us harshly to account for the destruction and scattering of the people…'

'I've never sought to hide it,' Veldrin whispered. 'Nor did I think I could…'

'It is good so,' the dragon Goddess nodded, 'and you do not absolve Pride of his rightful guilt, hence no ill-will we bear thee. This ancient war was not a mere clash of Gods, in which the latter born were casually caught; it was a clash of the people themselves, and their side showed ours no mercy, even after Pride rendered our people helpless, by taking us from them.'

'One cannot kill a God without killing their Temple,' Lusacan said, indeed, without malice, 'and Temples are not the stone of which they're built, they are the beating hearts within them, old and young, true believes or hypocrites. Even with us imprisoned, they did not stop until our Temples burned, stone, hearts and all…'

'I understand, Lord Watcher,' the mortal elf said, in a tiny voice.

'Solas said they were simply…fewer,' Dorian whispered, lowering his glance.

'How few children raised in the wrong faith are few enough to be irrelevant, Dawnbringer?' Razikale asked, and neither mortal answered, for there was no answer to be given.

'It was on their behalf that we first took flight,' Lusacan followed, looking out on the sea. 'Our own wrath was great enough, it's true, and from beyond the wicked walls where he had imprisoned us, we could not even feel the other barrier, nor knew that our foes had on each other turned already…'

'But the people, the last of the Elvhen do not know this,' Veldrin said, pleadingly. 'I understand that there was no unilateral wrong, yet these people have lived millennia not knowing…'

'Nor will they ever, little sister, if their shepherd keeps leading to the Wolf,' Razikale said. 'Here,' she said, offering Vel her pipe. 'Doesn't mend heartbreak, but clears the mind's eye.' For the first time since they'd ascended Imperator's Gate, Veldrin looked frightened and in need of rescue, so Dorian valiantly rose to the occasion.

'Would this be the highly illegal kind of smoking herbs that is smuggled from Par Vollen?' he asked, coming close to the two women. 'The kind that's more illegal than blood magic?'

'I acknowledge no such things as Par Vollen and illegal. I only care that the herbs are indeed of the very best kind,' Razikale confirmed with a decisive nod. 'Why, want some too?'

'Dorian,' Vel breathed, not knowing how much she could shake her head without the dragon Goddess taking insult in it.

'What else could happen?' Dorian muttered, not as much accepting the pipe as taking it from Razikale's fingers; one draw was enough for him to stagger and sit down on the dragon's wing as well. 'Oh, this is good,' he sighed, in obvious pleasure. 'Have some, Vel,' the man said, leaning past Razikale, with what looked like blind courage, and extending the pipe to his now truly frightened wife.

'Should be really be deciding the fate of nations while smoking spindleweed on a wall?' Veldrin asked, taking advantage of the eye contact with Dorian alone to widen her eyes in protest.

Lusacan threw his head back and laughed. Beneath them, from Imperator's Square to the Minrathous' harbour, altars were coming alight with candles, and prayers, and hope that the unknown might somehow be forgiving.

'How else do you think history itself does it, Lady Patience?' the Lord Watcher said, between chuckles. 'Do you find,' he said, turning towards his sister's dragon body, which now served as a comfortable seat to three, 'that history itself is anything but a drunken man ambling along a riverbed of sharpened stones? The duty of the Gods is not to guide that man, or the waters, or the sands,' he said. 'The duty of the Gods is to keep that man ambling on, and do our best to keep the sharpened stones from being deadly if he falls. This truth too, Solas forgot.'

'This is...' Vel tried to speak, choking on the smoke. 'Oh, Gods…'

'I know,' Lusacan said. 'The whiff!'

'Just so thou knows truth from lie, Patience, he means the stargazer flowers and the unwashed crowds, not my herbs.' Razikale helpfully pointed.

'I mean both, Mystery,' Lusacan dryly replied. He sighed, and bit his lower lip in thought. 'They'll have no love of thee, the people,' he once more said. 'For generations.'

'Nor would I expect them to,' Veldrin said; despite the fact that Razikale's herbs had a mighty odour indeed, she did feel lighter and more at ease to speak. 'I mean, Gods…They've had their entire religion and history upturned in a matter of half a decade. We did believe that our Creators were essentially good, and Solas was the only outright evil lurking; he came along and told them that it was not so. We'll come to tell them a different story now, and take...Of course they will not love me. They'll hate me outright.'

'Yet hate unites as much as love, if not more,' she whispered, giving Razikale back her pipe, 'and it is, in the end, not me that they should come to love. For, I, alone, can give them nothing, while you can give them all…'

'Hopefully not quite all,' Dorian said, with a little frown, 'but…'

Razikale laughed warmly. 'Thou feel such fear again, and for no reason,' she said. 'If we should forgive part of our people whom, as Patience asks us to believe, forgot us through no fault of their own, we shan't proceed differently for the others. Even if dwindling, Tevinter kept some faith in us, and it will soon fully remember that it thrived under our wings.'

'What of…' Dorian dared, not speaking his thoughts fully.

'The others?' Lusacan completed, smiling wryly. 'Within a few generations, they will learn or most of them will die. We shall not take this choice from them, for this is not our way. It is Pride's way to think that he knows what is good for all, and look what Pride has wrought. We will make clear that we have no enemies, but that our love is for our friends alone.'

'Still, the veil is weak,' Dorian insisted. 'Can you alone protect the humans of the continent from its effects?'

'Where traces of the true faith physically remain, perhaps,' Razikale thoughtfully responded. 'Where there are no remains, but the faith rises, we can attempt to rebuild, and we shan't be alone...Yet, Dawnbringer,' she followed, eyeing him curiously, 'I see, but do not understand why you dread the weakened, wicked barrier so much. We know that though hath walked the paths of the first people, and still stand here unscathed. Ah,' she said, her silent intrusion in his thoughts a soft caress. 'you believed Pride when he said that it will ultimately be lethal to all humans, if torn it stays.'

'Is it not true?' Veldrin asked.

Lusacan shook his head, in what was neither confirmation nor denial. 'For all these years,' he slowly said, 'and my old bitter friend still learns no half way…It is part truth, but here I would not fully accuse him of lying, for this we know, and he does not. It is not long ago, in our sight, that lyrium and the Fade were indeed lethal to the first humans exposed to them. Part of the reasons why that changed is indeed that the first people taught them safe usage, but part of it is that humans, too, adjusted.'

'You have been in the beyond thou calleth fade,' Razikale added; Dorian reluctantly nodded. 'It is thy knowledge, then, that in itself, it is not even hindrance. It is this strange limbo of the first people's pathways that humans are not accustomed to, but it is within thy power to adjust. And you will,' she promised, smiling. 'Just not as swiftly as thy kind always desires. I see the future, and both of our people are in it.'

'You'll then allow…' Vel said, in a voice strangled by hope; Razikale chuckled, with an unpleasant undertone.

'Because thy ask is so sweet to our ear, Lady Patience,' she said; it was a jest though, and Veldrin shuddered.

'We will allow them the same choice as we allow all others,' Lusacan coldly uttered. 'We'll have no enemies, but our love is for our friends alone. Mythal's useless pond keeper, however, is not our friend, nor is he thine, nor is there any remedy to that but death.'

He saw Dorian cringe at the words, and frowned. 'The Lady Patience's aura rubs on thee entirely too much, Dawnbringer. He is a critter not even dangerous, but meaningless; he cannot lead the people more than he could guard that puddle he was sworn to keep.'

'I merely think it is a waste of a good man,' Dorian said, his courage bolstered by Lady Mystery's herbs.

'You do know that amid us all, it for you that he saves most of both hatred and contempt.' Lusacan said, watching the Magister through narrowed eyes. 'If he could do it, it is you that he'd end first.'

'I know,' Dorian shrugged, 'but he cannot touch me, so if he chooses to give himself a hole in the stomach by chewing dryly on his hatred and contempt forever, then he'll simply have to enjoy heartburn for the rest of his eternity. I care not. You say,' he followed, reaching for Razikale's pipe in blind, and not seeming in the least surprised when she giggled and handed it over, 'that humans have the power to adjust. Solas and Abelas clearly think that this makes us all efficient parasites, I guess, but I think that they fail to see that power to adjust in themselves...'

'The Wolf changes his hair, but not his habits,' Vel sadly spoke; both dragons chuckled knowingly, though Lady Mystery attempted a half frown.

'Ah, the wisdom of Andruil survives the ages,' Lusacan said – he was nonetheless amused.

'Or at least the legend of her wisdom survives the ages,' Razikale responded, rolling her eyes.

'Be kind to the one human in the circle and speak in Elvhen doodles not,' Dorian muttered. 'I get that my train of thought might not be true for Solas, but Abelas himself has shown undeniable ability to adapt, if not his thoughts, then at least his behaviour. He might not be the leader Arlathan needs him to be, but he is still the one they have. We'll make no strides towards good will if we ask for his head, along with all the other terrible and humiliating things you know we'll ask of them.'

'We need their good will not,' Lusacan smirked. 'We, equals among equals, take as we need and we give as we want – learn this, Dawnbringer, as thy first truth.'

'Think then, instead, of the effortless power you would gain if he was your first true believer,' Dorian said. 'Or of how much more strength your truth will gain, if you are merciful where he was not…Think of how much more Pride will suffer, if you take his Temple from him without upturning a stone or shedding a drop of blood; if I were Solas, I'd change my name to Shame, then…'

Lusacan chuckled, and exchanged a glance with his sister; she smiled and shrugged in turn.

'So many words,' the Watcher said, 'to simply ask us to spare a man he himself has spared.'

'So many words to simply ask that we should hastily take all from Pride, and end his torment sooner,' his sister said, in turn. 'The Gods see all, Dawnbringer,' she reminded.

Dorian shrugged. 'I am neither too proud nor too patient to think it,' he said, ignoring Veldrin's pained glance. 'It did cross my mind, and it's not only him I'm thinking of,' he added, stubbornly focussing on the pipe.

Lusacan tilted his head to the side. 'Our little sister is not only being patient in this,' he responded, in a toneless voice. 'She is being wise, although it pains her greatly. The future of her people takes precedence here, and she knows all too well that by entrusting Arlathan to our love, she will be tearing out Pride's heart and holding it before his eyes. She knows that this is pleasing to us.'

'Besides, she is unsure if she has forgiven him, herself, for all that she already knew of him, and all she's come to learn,' Razikale added, with odd kindness.

'I do still love him,' Veldrin weakly said.

'Yes, little sister,' the Goddess responded, waving her fingers to regain her pipe, 'we know you do. Still, 'tis the man alone you love, and not the God he was. The God that he still is, in many ways.'

'I only knew the man,' Vel said, glancing in the distance; Razikale caressed her shoulder, in genuine compassion, then drew deeply of her pipe.

'You knew the God as well, but could not see him,' Mystery said. 'It was not our intent to trap you alongside him, Patience,' she gently followed.

'In truth,' Lusacan added, 'it pains us that we are. Preserving scale and balance, thou art the only one beside us to know the pain of his betrayal. I,' he said, a strange tremor in his voice, 'thought him a friend, and I too thought I knew the man before the God; for many long centuries, I thought the two of us were playing chess, and even though I usually see through the hearts of others, when I intently look, and mine is the gaze that follows all, I did not see that I alone was playing chess, while he was merely gambling.'

Vel bit her lower lip, and willingly accepted Razikale's pipe. 'Entire worlds,' she nodded, a hard edge to her voice. 'He gambled, and he lost. In a Godly manner,' she chuckled, chocking on the smoke, but still laughing in earnest. 'And to think that all of this happened because I had good ball catching reflexes! My brothers would die laughing, if they were not already…dead.'

She lay back on the dragon's wing, and stared up at the indifferent sky, flinching slightly as Razikale leaned in above her.

'No, Patience,' the Goddess said, for the first time sounding confused in turn. 'Your hands and his are touched by fate. Do you not…'

She shifted her glance to her brother's, and Lusacan shook his head.

'She cannot feel it, Mystery. She is a but a child in time's eyes, and well,' he sighed, 'you use these foul plants to keep yourself from seeing too far along the weave of fate. They tie her mind in so many knots that not even thy power or mine can untangle them.'

'I cannot feel it, true,' Vel whispered. 'But,' she wisely added, 'you are timeless, and could tell me.'

'Yes,' Dorian muttered, lying back in his turn and taking Veldrin's hand in his, behind Razikale's back, 'you could tell us.'

'You would have given him to death, if you could have,' Razikale said. 'It was not us to stop thee, nor was it the Undying annoyance that calls itself Imshael.'

'Eh,' Veldrin whispered, 'it was fate? Were we both fated to this?'

'If our wings had carried us but two heartbeats slower, Pride would be dead by thine hand,' Lusacan said, frowning. 'What else but the sharp stone riverbed of fate would thou call this?'

'I'd call it bad luck, fucking fuck,' Vel mumbled.

Razikale looked to her brother, and he looked to her; she clenched her jaws and nodded, but it was he who spoke.

'If the minion of the defeated Gods wishes to have it, he will have to beg for Arlathan before those the most despises,' Lusacan said. 'You, Patience. The Dawnbringer. The gathering of the people who are not his. The Ferryman of Tevinter. So the Gods speak, and so it shall be. He will feel no gratitude; he will believe that he has won it, when all those who he hates will have freely given it. He'll know not that the Dawnbringer put his will across mine, and won for kindness, and, so for the third time, preserved him from true death.'

'He'll not have a fourth chance,' Razikale said. 'Tell him of this, Lady Patience, when in two sunrises you meet him at the crossing of the first people's paths…Nor does he have the choice of staying hidden, which you kindly and unwisely offered.'

'I thought you said you will not actively intervene, nor bar his and their choices,' Dorian frowned.

'And we are not going to,' Razikale responded. 'But time and fate wait for no man, and Abelas is, as of a few months ago, out of favour with both.'

Whew, long chapter after a long break! About time we updated. Things have happened for both Abstract & IvI over this long month of July - some good, some bad, some VERY good. Hopefully we didn't scare you with the first part of the chapter - we did need to explain poor Lexi's predicament, as it was sort of hanging, and we apologise if you felt for heartbeat we might alter Vel and Dorian's relationship in that same part. We never will, he was just drunk and heartbroken, and uncharacteristically vengeful - but he is still Dorian, as we know and love him.

Thank you for your patience! and ofc, leave us a note, if you wish, that is one of the VERY good things.