Those who oppose thee

Shall know the wrath of heaven.

Field and forest shall burn,

The seas shall rise and devour them,

The wind shall tear their nations

From the face of the earth,

Lightning shall rain down from the sky,

They shall cry out to their false gods,

And find silence.

Andraste 7:19

High over the battlefield in the form of great eagle, Andruil felt increasing rage and impatience. By her own estimates and those of most of her advisors, this pebble of a city should have been an easy conquest. Not because it lacked in fortifications, or because its defenders were unskilled, but rather because they should have been like a herd of frightened druffalo, ripe for a cull.

All reports and personal testimony from those who know the City of Chains said that it was still unhealed from the eruption of violence that had sparked the mage rebellion, and Vael's invasion.

The uncounted factions swirling around the rebellious templars, criminal cartels, and nobles within bickered and fought amongst one another, as starved wolves of different packs did over a carcass, unable to unite with their disparate interests, especially with the death of the city's alpha Champion following Solas and his bitch's intervention with the Wardens. Kirkwall might have fended off Starkheaven years ago, but that attack had been Vael's alone, whereas her army was the legions of the Chantry faithful.

Still, it turned out that Leliana's estimates about the City proving more resilient than Vael and his military advisors had predicted had turned out to be correct.

Whether it be disbelief, unwillingness to leave behind their dens, or the appearance of a new alpha in the form of Solas' old dwarf companion, the city's defenders were proving stubborn in their coordination. Further, her attempts of sending in rats, birds, or otherwise command the surrounding wildlife to scourge the city were likewise rebuffed by some force which rendered her control weak near the bounds of the walls.

'Somewhat too well provisioned for a city under siege. No doubt, 'tis the work of the False Gods.' Andruil had said to Leliana; the Nightingale had nodded in agreement – pliable and foolish as she was.

Nosing into a dive, the Great Huntress swept down from the heavens to observe what laid between the walls that the non-people could not breach; the sight did not dull her fury, it merely sharpened it.

Lay a trap for a bear, she thought, but make sure it is starving first. The non-people within the walls were not starving. In fact, they were better provisioned than her own following – someone, she cared not who – was manipulating eluvians, so that inside their walls all felt safe.

She lazily wheeled around from her height in the clouds over the city to gaze balefully down at her own lines. Their food was weeks old and rancid, terrible smells rose from the shit holes they'd dug for themselves. Not only that, but they had dug them in such proximity to fresh water, that the water had started to reek too…But, being the druffalo they were, her soldiers did not notice that the water was tainted, not until they started keeling over, holding their bellies, and shitting themselves even more.

She once more soared above her lines, yet her soldiers paid her no heed; Dirthamen's magic's cloaked her form, and Sylaise's soothed even those who did see her transformations into blissful acceptance.

Still, she was losing, here, if only in the name of the strange prophet. The city, and its friends were resisting her, and that would not do. It would not do at all.

She'd come to slay, not wait.

She needed to regain control.

She landed behind her main lines, once more shifting into Andraste shape; she pressed on Sylaise's powers, adding to herself a radiance and sense of grace that caught one's eye and heart even if one was not looking.

Andruil then walked straight towards the centre of the fear that was spreading through her army – the dead and dying.

Gasps arose from the dying about her and the wounded reached out torn limbs in entreaty. Andruil felt revulsion, but something else, too – mercy, perhaps, for one could not call on only part of Sylaise - stirred her gut at the lost potential. She briefly gritted her teeth against the sensation but ultimately found herself, and felt pleased. Beasts they may have been, but they were her beasts and their bodies and lives were not to be squandered, and, just like all beasts, they needed a whip and a caress to master.

A good hunter never wasted, after all.

'Most Holy!' the male physician who had been standing desolate amidst the most heavily wounded gasped.

Tears streamed down the front of his face and the bloody hacksaw with which he'd been amputating festering limbs fell to the ground. Andruil breathed deeply, though the scent of offal and excrement around her caused her stomach to turn even more violently, then swept forward and embraced the bloodied, desperate man, staining her sparkling white robes and cascading blonde hair crimson.

'Blessed are those who remain faithful,' she whispered in a voice that yet projected out to all those who lay around her. 'Blessed are those who remain steadfast through suffering,' she said, speaking the words of the sisters in that Chantry in the woods, when she'd come to them months prior. 'Their sacrifices will be rewarded by the Maker, when you sit by his side with me.'

She smelled the change in the air and turned to face the gathering crowd whose eyes gazed at her in desperate faith and desolation.

'Pain is not to be feared, and neither is death. I have conquered death; once more I stand among you…'

And with that, Andruil reached down to a young boy, whose pitiful face hair was barely coming in, amid the white topped pustules that littered his face, and pulled him up and away from the approaching beyond. His eyes snapped open, and those who had died about her, but were still of somewhat able body gasped to true life – their spirits returned and flesh mended by the powers she'd taken from June.

It became so silent that a pin dropping might have resounded as loud a horn.

'And we shall conquer here, for the Maker heeds me, and all of you will conquer in His light.'

Spinning about, Andruil began walking towards the City of Chains, with the young boy at her side and a swiftly growing host behind.

'I hear the Maker's voice, as clearly as once I heard it when I first called to him,' she said, her voice growing louder as the skies began to grow red. Long strides carried Andruil forward and the host that she had recalled from the beyond past the startled ranks of the front line of soldiers, who looked at her in awe.

'His anger now is great, for the lives of his faithful are not worth a grain of sand to the faithlessness of the unbelievers. See the Maker's power. Hear his fury; hear his truth!'

The skies burned just as wood might have, from green, to yellow, then to orange, all bleeding into red - as Andruil called upon Elghar'nan's magic, causing fireballs to rain from the sky in brilliant streaks. Ultimately harmless, at first, but she could see that it was having the desired effects on both her followers and the city's defenders, who had completely ceased their return fire of arrows.

No wonder, she thought. It was indeed an amazing sight.

Andruil kept walking forward, ignoring the fact that the filth she was stepping upon squelched amid her toes; she walked right to gates of Kirkwall, until they loomed tall above her.

You wanted this to be my grave. It shall be yours now.

She could now fully see the awed faces of the defending archers looking down her. One, a woman of darker skin and colourful fabric, wrested a crossbow from a dumbfounded male archer and shot a bolt towards her. Before it even got within a hand's breadth from her face, the missile felt to ash. Above, the sky rumbled, and the rain of fire found aim upon the ground.

'I call to you for mercy, Maker of us all,' Andruil cried, her clear voice ringing over the walls as her army stretched out silent behind her. She did not need to turn to see their expressions to know they were calm and utterly under her command. 'Mercy, for the innocent of this city! Rid yourselves of the evil men and women who would lead you astray and give yourselves to your Maker – he is mine too, at his feet you shall find shelter! Hear me, City of Chains! Mercy shall be given...'

Her cry was no sooner uttered than her hearing distinguished the muffled sound of a dagger being driven into flesh.

The woman above her disappeared from her sight, and without further resistance, the gate began to ponderously open.

Maintaining the same serene expression she had seen on the crude murals adorning her new castle, Andruil marched forward through the now-kneeling defenders of Kirkwall. She willed the sky above tranquil and still as she marched forward, eyes filled with light but other senses strained to a pitch.

All around her, she now felt the magics of her old people, and realized in part why the defence had been so stubborn: amulets of magical resistance adorned the necks of many of Kirkwall's commanders, preventing them from seeing her illusions, while deeper in the city she could feel the pulse of eluvians being hastily shut down.

Daren'thal…I'll have your head rotting on my throne, for this.

No matter – she did not need the city's love, she merely needed its fear; the mirrors could be reopened in time. Maybe she would task her dear old lover with it after he had been paraded around enough to humble his overweening pride.

But first, she had to deal with the other reason the damned city had resisted so long, and she'd take pleasure in doing so.

Varric Tethras, the Viscount of Kirkwall, walked forward with no carriage or escort to meet her procession.

'The City of Kirkwall yields to you, Andruil,' the dwarf said, obviously pale and fighting down tremors.

'Blasphemer!' cried the pitiful human male who walked beside her. Angry mutters came up behind her, breaking the silence from her own soldiers. Andruil found herself admiring the little creature's courage. It was a shame that she could not make it her own, but he was clearly untameable.

'The Maker forgives your heresy, Child of the Stone,' Andruil replied as she stepped forward to lay a soft hand near the dwarf's neck.

She kneeled beside him, seemingly to take the key.

Andruil smiled as she exerted her power more into her followers – it took far less now than it had moments ago, their desperate belief in their Maker easing her path. And as she accepted the key to city's chains from the little bitch's friend, she kissed the man on both cheeks, using the motion to whisper in his ear.

'Their Maker, whomever he is, may forgive you,' she whispered, 'but I certainly shan't.'

Whatever gathering this was, Vel had not been expecting it, for she had hoped to introduce Solas back to even the small world of the Pavus Mansion slowly. She was under no illusion that any of their former companions would take well to the sight of him, but at least if he met them one by one, starting with Dorian…

Perhaps the dream she had been living for the past two days would linger, just for a while…

Yet, there was no such luck – the Pavus library was full: Mae was pacing like a caged tiger, Bull was occupying one couch, Dalish and Sera were sitting on the other, maps sprawled on the tea table before them, Abelas stood stiffly in front of his eluvian, as always, while Dorian, was half way up a bookcase ladder, obviously searching for some scrolls…and there was something ominous hanging in the air. Something even worse than the return of the Dread Wolf.

She could tell that Solas was equally startled by the size of the host, for he had instinctively taken a step back, something she had never seen him do, nor could have imagined him doing. She protectively stepped in front of him, but there was no hiding him from their gazes, and there was none in the room, that looked upon either of them with any sort of benevolence. Quite to the contrary – yet, whatever this was, it was serious enough for Sera not to jump up and immediately kick Solas in the crotch.

As always, though Dorian at least attempted to come to her aid – he looked over his shoulder and gave her a pained smile.

'Well, well,' he said making his way down, 'look who decided to finally stop attempting to demolish the house by making the bed come through the ceiling. Show some consideration for the mansion, if you please, the next time you go at it like merry apes…'

'You shall not speak to Fen'Harel on that impudent tone!' Abelas said, in outrage, obviously not caring for the form of address towards one he still considered a higher being; Dorian gave him one of his most resplendent smiles.

'Well,' the Magister responded, 'he is in my house, and he is, ahem, diddling a fair lady who is technically my wife, so I think I shall speak to him in any way I please, thank you…Good morning, Amata,' he said, giving his wife a small kiss on the cheek – by force of habit, Vel rose to her toes, and gave him a peck on the lips.

She knew Solas was simmering with anger behind her, but, for the moment, she could not care less. It was only fair, she thought – the others would have to swallow far more than Solas did, and the fact that he had returned to her did not imply anything had changed between herself and Dorian.

'Good morning, Amatus, and…everyone,' she shyly greeted. 'What is up?'

'Other than Solas'…'

'Oi, oi…' Vel hastily interrupted. 'Bull, please…'

The Qunari shrugged. 'Legitimate question, and far a better greeting than an axe to the skull, boss.'

'True,' Vel admitted, daring a step forward. She had not wanted it to happen this way, the woman considered, knowing that even the most minute shift in her position left her lover exposed to all of their furious glances. It had still happened, and the sooner they got over the awkwardness of the situation…

'The question is not what is up, Vel,' Mae grunted. 'The question is what is not up, and that is Kirkwall. And Varric, if you still care.'

'What?' Veldrin breathed, feeling as though her knees had turned to molasses. 'When? Why? Three days ago…'

'Three days ago Andruil had not yet lost her patience,' Abelas gravely replied. 'It seems she and her advisors thought the city would easily be taken – but for our help it might have been - she and the Chantry forces were beginning to suffer serious losses, so she personally stepped in.'

'Oh, fuck,' Veldrin whimpered, letting herself fall on the chair behind Dorian's desk, and hiding her head in her hands. 'Does Radonis…'

Abelas smirked. 'Though I dearly hope it shall not become a habit, it's him I visited first.'

'He's in Concilliarum,' Mae said, tiredly sitting in one of the armchairs before Vel's desk, 'and ravens have been flying back and forth through the night…'

'Why was Keeper Lavellan not informed?' Solas spoke up, attracting more vile glances – he fully ignored them, and casually strode to stand behind Veldrin's chair, hands clenched behind his back.

Dorian pursed his lips, but swallowed whatever acid irony might have brewing inside his mind; Vel loved him for it.

'Well,' he coldly answered, elegantly sitting down on the chair opposite Mae's, 'because I strictly hold on to the rule that no one should come a'knocking if the entire mansion is a'rocking.'

''sides,' Sera spat, 'neither of you was gonna do us any good while ya was bumping bits, innit? Lest ya's gonna pretend like ya was doing vigorous magical training up there…'

'None needed,' Solas dryly replied.

To even Vel's amazement, he flicked the fingers of his right hand open, bringing out a small, but steady flicker of veilfire.

'Gah,' Mae grunted. 'I do wish we could communicate with him via small notes slipped under the door; having to look at him mangles my focus…As in,' she clarified, 'I want to strangle him with my bare hands…'

'I am sure the feeling is widely shared, and it was not my wish to be here, either.' Solas indifferently replied.

'So how do we know we can trust you?' the Iron Bull asked, leaning forward and making the couch creak.

'We know,' Dorian dryly replied, sparing his wife the embarrassment and pain of detail.

'Indeed,' the elf said. 'I am well tethered, and whatever we may feel or think about each other remains unconstructive. Why was Keeper Lavellan not informed?' he repeated.

'We let you have the night,' Dalish sighed, giving up on the topic. 'Sometimes, dawn is more ridden with despair than dusk, and we all thought Keeper Lavellan deserved a few more hours of peace. There is nothing that you could have done, lethallan,' she kindly said, shifting her glance to Vel's, 'and if I am not mistaken, Dread Wolf, while magic might have returned to you, it is still not your magic.'

'You are correct, Keeper Ralaferin...Dalish. It is just the form of magic that any trained mage would possess.'

'At least we don't need to re-teach you how to cast barrier…' Dorian muttered. 'Problem is,' he followed, rising to his feet and slowly beginning to walk around the room, 'the moment is missed. We had intended to synchronise Kirkwall's surrender with a moment when we could show Andruil up for what she is, but she is still one fucking step ahead. And she has Varric. And…'

'Is he still alive?' Vel whispered.

'Last we saw, yes,' Abelas replied, 'but even if she does keep him so, I doubt the Child of the Stone is grateful.'

'I hope you did not leave any open eluvians, in the city,' Solas spoke, as if the last exchange had not interested him one iota.

'I'm going to hit him in the face!' Mae exploded, springing to her feet. 'This is my friend's life we are not speaking of…'

Vel shook her head and sighed. 'He is our friend too, Mae. The eluvian network is sadly more important than…'

'Your friend's life?'

'If the eluvian network is left accessible to Andruil, we'll not only lose one friend,' Veldrin soothingly responded. 'We will lose everything.'

'It's not open to her,' Abelas coldly said. 'We took all of the eluvians out of the city, and one of us was left behind to smash the original one. If she was found, our agent is likely dead, yet the Crossroads of our people are safe, for now. Still, Dread Wolf, Andruil manifested Elghar'nan's powers over the city…'

'Passing them as a Maker's miracle, no doubt,' Solas replied.

'Yes,' Dorian spat, 'which castrates us all on every single front I can think of. Not only did we not show her up, as per original planning, but she has just taken the hearts and minds of anyone who might have doubted her, and she needs no public appearance that we could infiltrate. Fireballs raining from the sky is public enough…'

'Dispatch for you!' Razikale merrily said, appearing in the middle of the room, in a puff of smoke.

'Bloody hell!' the Bull exclaimed, jumping over the back of the couch, as if frail wood and velvet could protect him from the Goddess. She simply chuckled, and beheld him with benevolent curiosity.

'My…My Lady Mystery!' Vel exclaimed, standing up, in turn – not necessarily out of respect, but out of genuine surprise. 'You…'

'I thought you would be accustomed to this form of greeting, since so oft you heard it,' Mystery replied, pouting a little. 'But, never mind…'

'Why are you here?' Vel asked, in a strangled voice.

'Concilliarum was boring,' the Goddess sighed. 'I also wanted to check if you regained your healthy blush, Lady Patience…none of you has a sense of humour,' she sighed, 'but I guess it is to be expected, since Pride sours the mood wherever he goes…'

'Daren'thal,' Solas greeted, between clenched teeth.

'Treasonous dog,' the woman breezily replied, still smiling.

As was her habit, she settled in thin air, with her legs crossed. 'Sit down, horned one, I am a bearer of some good tidings for once.'

'As if,' Abelas muttered; Mystery rolled her eyes in annoyance, but proceeded to ignore him.

'Well, you should know that half the continent is either trying to ransom your friend, Viscount Tethras, or pleading for his custody, until, shall we say, he sees the light.'

'Will it happen?' Mae asked, on a cut off breath. 'King Alistair is Varric's good friend, and in his debt…He should also have enough credibility in this cursed woman's eyes that he might be able to get him away from her jaws.'

'Unfortunately,' Mystery said, the glimmer of warmth in her eyes disappearing, 'I cannot know.'

'But I thought…' Veldrin whispered, settling back down.

'She cannot know, because it all stops at Andruil,' Solas calmly responded. 'And Andruil cannot be read. She can merely be watched.'

Daren'thal gave him a long, charged stare, but reluctantly nodded. 'It is good, however, that the Child of the Stone has better friends in Ferelden than he does in Andruil's immediate circle of trust. Sebastian Vael wants Viscount Tethras' head, as an example, and sadly, Sister Nightingale, whom he might have counted on as a closer friend, thinks an example should be made of him too, albeit in different ways.'

'And how, precisely?' Dorian said, frowning.

'Small cage, city square, starvation unless Arlathan is disowned by one and all, including us,' Mystery replied, taking in Abelas' growing pallor with wicked satisfaction. 'And, of course, until the people of Andraste's champion accept her and the Maker as their one true deity…'

'Well, that does sound like Leliana,' Vel grumbled.

'She can't possibly hope that we will give up an entire city for one man,' Dalish thoughtfully put in.

'No,' The Bull answered, finally settling back down. 'But she can hope to turn Kirkwall against us in one fell swoop. That is what a Tamassran would do, under the guidance of the Arigena; it's quite the effective propaganda tactic.' he shrugged, when incredulous glances turned to him. 'Varric was loved in Kirkwall; those who loved him or merely liked him, even those who know who Andruil is, will see our lack of reaction to the blackmail as cold hearted. We won't be the good guys anymore…If we ever were the good guys in the first place…'

'And those who don't like him, and got turned by either fear or awe at Andruil's fireworks will see themselves as targets of unjust reprisals against the city,' Dorian bitterly nodded. 'It is not Varric we are playing for here, it is Kirkwall itself, and whatever the outcome, Leliana will have added another ten thousand arms to her fold.'

'Piss,' Mae whispered, resting her forehead in her hand. 'We should have never let him do this – you should have never let him do this…'

'Let's not lose hope,' Veldrin said, though hope was fading in her own heart. 'Either Varric's head on a pike or him starving to death in a city square will alienate the Thereins.'

'King Alistair, perhaps,' Daren'thal evenly responded, 'but the Kingdom of Fierce Dogs is too far gone for him alone to turn it.'

'Then, excuse me, my sister,' Veldrin irritably put in, 'how are you the bearer of good news?'

'Lady Patience,' Mystery giggled, 'so unlike you…Are you borrowing a bit of Pride's temper?'

'She is bearing good news - she's merely created this little of song and dance to put you on the edges of your seats before she and Anaris can reveal themselves as possible keys to Varric's salvation.' Solas sourly put in. 'Anaris can single-handedly break him out of any cell or cage, and Daren'thal herself can assure him safe passage out of the city.'

'As long as they do it fast enough,' Maevaris plaintively said.

'It can be instantaneous,' Solas replied. 'If I know anything of the Lord Watcher, he's currently leisurely strolling through Kirkwall, while one of his embodiments is still present in concilliarum.'

'Of course,' Daren'thal nodded.

'Even so, we have lost Kirkwall,' Veldrin reasoned. 'And if that show of strength brought Kirkwall to its knees within a few hours, I can assume Antiva and Nevarra won't be far behind…'

Mystery shook her head. 'Antiva won't betray. The Unnamed Queen is incensed, for, at Josephine Montilyet's advice, she had many a mage aboard her unmarked ships, and even infiltrated within the Ferelden foot soldier's ranks. She saw the truth. Nevarra will turn, however; they have in fact already done so, even though their ravens seem to be suffering from a bout of illness that slows their wings until our dispatches from concilliarum have been sent out and received…'

'But see, that don't help nunthin',' Sera spoke up, for the first time since Daren'thal's appearance. 'That just means we front Antiva to the shit that got Kirkwall, while Vel and Fen'Harass keep playin' hide the spotted dick…'

'Sera,' Vel sighed.

'How entirely expected,' Solas smirked.

Daren'thal chuckled. 'Don't worry, little archer girl,' she said, 'Pride has not slept with nearly enough real women for his dick to have any type of spots, so Lady Patience shall be fine, health-wise. Besides,' she added, sensuously stretching her arms up and exhaling a tall plume of smoke towards the ceiling, 'we won't be sitting idle. We will be preparing for war…Celene Valmont actually has a conscience, and there is only one Lady Patience, sitting here, in the same room as us.'

'What do you mean?' Dorian asked; Maevaris raised her forehead from her hands.

'Andruil will not want to take a longer path towards Arlathan, once Antiva doesn't roll over,' the Bull said, leaning over the maps. 'She will attack Antiva.'

'Aaaand, what I said!' Sera exclaimed.

'Yes, uhm, er…Sera?' Maevaris replied, thoughts rapidly shifting under the deep blue surface of her eyes, 'but if she does, conscience or not, Orlais will have to activate mutual defence treaties. If she attacks Antiva, she technically attacks Orlais, and Orlais will have to respond. Which is precisely what Empress Celene is waiting for, to jump in the fray on our side.'

'Well, I ain't sure I want to be on your side,' Sera aggressively mumbled. 'Ya's all acting like gods and generals, an' measuring pieces of paper, an' none of y'all is thinking…'

'Of the little people?' Daren'thal asked, shifting her mesmerising purple eyes to the archer. 'Know your place, little girl,' the Goddess snarled, abruptly sitting up, 'and think upon your words before they leave your lips…'

'You don't even care about Varric, 'cuz if you did, ya'd go and get him now, not whenever the wind farts better in your direction…'

'Sera,' Solas gently spoke. 'Do think on your words.'

She eyed him with such hatred that not even thousands of kicks in the groin might have accurately expressed; still, impervious or merely indifferent, Solas shrugged and looked to the Veldrin to explain.

'If they went for Varric now, as you wish it,' Vel said, 'as I wish and I am sure Mae wishes, what would happen to the little people of Kirkwall? Andruil certainly would not blame his escape on those better skilled than she; she would blame it on subversive elements within the city's walls. All of them, little people, with no stake in this world other than survival. She has caused a rain of fire upon their homes and loved ones already, can you not think of what she would unleash if he was to be broken free before her focus shifted elsewhere?'

'A wave of furious and undeserved reprisals might just get us Kirkwall back, though,' Dorian said.

'At a cost too high to consider, Amatus.' Vel replied.

'I'd think that a combination of Orlesians and Vints clashing with all of the Free Marches and Ferelden, over Antiva City, would sort of count as that too, boss,' the Bull said, frowning.

'She won't be going to Antiva City,' Solas said, shaking his head. 'Her goal is Arlathan, and after Arlathan, Minrathous. She's already scouted her path north. If the Unnamed Queen is wise and informed, she will play scorched earth, and mount little actual effort. Which is why, I am assured, Anaris…'

'Anaris is making this very same point in concilliarum as we speak, yes,' Daren'thal nodded. 'Too bad you are such a pain in the nethers, brother, we could have been friends…Oh,' she poisonously reiterated, 'we actually were friends, once…'

'Why does she want Arlathan that much?' Mae asked. 'It seems so…'

'Menial?' Abelas growled.

'Sorry, golden boy, but it seems so strategically unimportant that I am shocked Andruil is still going for it.' Maevaris muttered, in response. 'Why is she so persistent on being stranded on the wrong side of Quarinus and the Hundred Pillars? She can't hope to fight the Imperium across the straights…'

Solas shook his head in sorrow.

'Humans,' he said, at the exact same time that Daren'thal said – 'Mortals,' and all others but Vel, Abelas and Dalish sighed in unison.

'Arlathan,' Solas slowly said, 'is where the veil is thinnest.'

'It is the place where you first betrayed us all, you mean,' Daren'thal coldly grinned.

'On one hand,' he replied, not quarrelling over the obvious. 'But the veil is even thinner now; firstly because I've pulled hundreds of thousands of mortals though it, and secondly because proximity to the Fade strengthens us.'

Abelas nodded, picking up from where Solas had left off. 'This is why, Magistra Tilani, it does not look strategically important to you, but it is strategically important to Andruil. In the absence of Fen'Harel, and…and Keeper Lavellan's powers,' he forced himself to say, 'it is the one place where she may hope she can breach it.'

'But how?' Dalish asked, narrowing her eyes, in confusion. 'None of the Creators have that power; even if she has indeed absorbed them all…'

'There are cruder forms of magic that may accomplish that,' Solas answered, glaring at Daren'thal, 'and even those might not be necessary. A massacre – enough bloodshed and thousands of spirits pressing against the Veil - will suffice.'

Untouched by the sting, Mystery shrugged. 'One uses whatever tools are on hand.' She evenly answered.

'So then,' Dorian smirked, obviously not impressed at the reference to the Magisters Sidereal, 'I might have drunk entirely too little, but I am failing to grasp this. Even if, say, we stop her and her armies before she reaches Arlathan proper, I agree with both Sera and the Bull. A clash of the Imperial armies against the Chantry's hosts will kill countless innocents and cause enough bloodshed for Andruil's intent to be filled…If, of course,' he stingingly added, 'human blood is fit for purpose.'

'Outside the city proper, we have means of defence against that,' Abelas said, but there was not enough certainty in his voice to reassure anyone – and Solas' icy chuckle rendered all, Veldrin included, even further ill at ease.

'But that is not what my sister here intends, Magister Pavus,' Solas said; for the first time, he stepped forth from behind Veldrin and looked Daren'thal straight in the eyes.

'Not because she's grown squeamish about using whatever tools are on hand,' he followed, 'but because a clash of such proportions might actually be dangerous. To her.'

'Well, well, Pride,' the Goddess answered, smiling thinly, 'and here I thought it was only the little archer girl who forgot her place…'

'Or you've unwittingly given me mind reading powers,' Solas bit back, spinning on his heels to once more face Veldrin. 'No, vhenan, what Mystery intends is not a clash of armies. What she intends is a clash of champions, one that she is very sure that she will win – though where that confidence stems from, is beyond me.'

Vel shifted uneasily.

'It's true, Lady Mystery. Andruil wields the power of six, while you are only two…'

'Two, little sister?' Daren'thal chuckled. 'No, we are five, and soon to be…wait for it…'

There was a soft knock on the door.

'Magister Pavus?' Nyrral shyly asked, from the corridor.

'Yes?' Dorian responded.

'I know you said not to be disturbed, but there's a lady with a young lad here…'

'We're in a bit of a tangle currently, Nyrral,' Veldrin sighed.

'Yes, lethallan,' the butler answered, 'but she says that she is expected. It's the same lady that was here before…'

Veldrin let her shoulders slump, not knowing whether it was in relief or exasperation.

'Seven,' Daren'thal victoriously chimed; as she entered the library, her arm gracefully leaning on Kieran's, Morrigan offered all a wide, unpleasantly royal smile.

'I gather 'tis all dire, once again,' she mockingly greeted, in the stunned silence of the room.

Well, it is a bit dire... But it seems like we are going to get some help, whether we want it or not (yay, it's Morrigan again... ./sigh), and while Varric may be unlucky in most respects, at least the help he'll get is unequivocally wanted. Thus, up next, an unexpected cameo, and raise your glasses for the return of...

Nope, you'll find out next week :)

Thank you all for reading and commenting,

Cheers,

Abstract & IvI