And she gave them food and drink and bade them sit

While Shartan gave her the tale of their uprising

And flight from Vol Dorma.

Shartan 13: 3-5

'History is pliable. It is only time that is relentless - so to alter history, we should learn how to alter time…Your handwriting, Magister Pavus?' Solas ironically asked, looking up from the scroll he was reading.

'It's a copy of Alexius' diaries, and no, it's my scribe's handwriting.' Dorian stingingly replied. 'What are you doing, sitting here in the dark?'

'I have a candle.'

'Yes, but there are tens of candles about. You could have lit more than one…'

Solas honestly chuckled. 'Suspecting me of ominously sneaking about your library?'

'In part. Given your choice of reading material…' Dorian sighed and surrendered. 'Let's just leave it as I would rather you did not go blind.'

'I apologise,' the elf answered, with a small inclination of his head. 'I did not wish to disturb further. Sleep could not find me, and it took its sweet time in finding Vel, thus I thought that coming down here to read would be the safest way of not waking her up. I clearly disturbed you.'

'Did I just hear you apologise?' Dorian scoffed.

'Your round ears are deceiving you,' Solas replied, with a smile.

'I am sure. Besides, you did not disturb me, I did fall asleep, after the two of you finished making a racket... It is just that I immediately had a dream of Daren'thal playing diamondback with Andruil and using the entirety of Thaedas as a board, so I came down here to read. Or drink. Possibly both. Probably both.'

'You should have Anaris coined for the part,' the elf sighed. 'Daren'thal finds strategy tiresome. I do understand the feeling, however – I was having the same vision, save I was wide awake.'

'Terrible,' Dorian said. 'Drink?' he asked.

Solas looked up in surprise, but nodded, after a moment of hesitation.

'I'll have some of your tolerable brandy, thank you.' He replied; the human nodded in turn, and brought the elf's glass to the desk before carrying his own back and sitting on one of the couches.

'Do you have any idea what Mystery intends?' Dorian asked. 'Morrigan's presence…'

'…puts everyone on edge. I have the feeling that she puts people more on edge than I do.'

'I would not go that far, but she comes close. Nobody understands her motives.'

Solas shook his head. 'This time, I believe I do understand her. Andruil was ever an enemy to Mythal, even in times long past, so Morrigan feels a threat for herself and Kieran, just like she did when Corypheus surfaced. Perhaps she senses opportunity as well. She would not be the only one who does.'

'Well, that leaves us with only two more unknowns, then,' Dorian muttered. 'How much we can trust you, and how Daren'thal's arithmetic works – because whichever way I look at it, Solas, I am still only seeing maybe three of you, and six of Andruil. Since this is my first cup, I am pretty assured my calculations have not gone awry.'

'You're not seeing double yet, at least,' the elf said, with a nod.

Solas bitterly chuckled and sat his glass aside.

'No, Dorian,' he contradicted, sounding almost kind. 'There are other unpredictable pieces on the board. Anaris and Daren'thal...'

'You know, Solas,' Dorian sighed, standing to refill the elf's glass, 'you sometimes sound as if you do not know these two at all.'

Solas laughed. 'Oh, and you think that you do, having known them for the great length of a year? Because if it is so, you should take heed how you tread, my friend – the shark tank that I recall Vivienne once warned you of has gotten far larger, and far more dangerous…'

'You might just have to repeat that. I think my brain ground to a screeching halt when you called me your friend. Or are my ears deceiving me, again?'

'You have just poured me a drink – thank you,' the elf noted, with a hint of a smile. 'It is also that I have never truly considered you an enemy…I merely…Sought to see you as the face of a nation I despise, and had to dig very deeply to find even a hint of it, in you.'

'Ah, so that was what all the vitriol was for?' the Magister said, letting himself drop on his couch with a huff; the other shrugged.

'Yes,' Solas admitted. 'Acid strips all things to their indissoluble core. Why do you think I never bothered with Vivienne? She was so easy to dislike, from the first hour, that I was immediately satisfied. You, on the other hand…'

Solas looked up and bitterly smiled.

'For as much as I wished to tighten the ties on the horse blinders I put on myself, you never set one foot wrong, no matter how I pushed and prodded – you're still doing so now. You should have despised me, but you admired me instead…'

'I remember that particular put down,' Dorian said. 'I think it topped my list of 'Solas' snidest retorts, a countdown by quality' list. I did actually keep one, you know. And that one stung particularly badly.'

'It was intended to,' Solas shrugged. 'If you could not be a sharpening stone for my anger, I at least wished you would have kept your distance, when it became clear you were not that. Even worse, you were so similar to me, and in so many ways braver in admitting who and what you were that I thought only offending you enough would keep you out of my hair.'

'So to speak,' Dorian chuckled.

'Your sense of humour remains abysmal,' the elf groaned.

'If it's still abysmal when we get to the bottom of the bottle, you can leave me a written complaint on the desk.'

'If either of us can still write, once we get to the bottom of the bottle.'

'True,' Dorian earnestly said, 'but…this I understand. You did not wish to look into the mirror and see a Tevinter as your twisted reflection. Looking back, though, does it not seem a little childish for…'

'It was, but I did not much care; the similarity you speak of was far more jarring. And we were frighteningly similar. We even ended up loving the same woman.'

'As well as marrying the same woman at the same time, I see,' Dorian said, grinning, and pointedly looking at the new little woven ringlet on Solas' ring finger. 'I hope that means I can put you against immediate paranoid doubt. Might have something to do with my waking up, as well, incidentally, but…'

'If it is offensive to you, I shall…'

'Oh, please, how could it be offensive?' the human theatrically sighed, leaning back and smiling under his moustache. 'I give her a diamond the size of a pigeon's egg, you give her something you made out of my curtains, and she chooses to wear yours, not mine. I am not offended at all.'

Solas adjusted his voice.

'She's actually wearing both,' he tentatively replied – and Dorian laughed, warmly.

'That was a joke,' the human said. 'I am glad for her, and actually glad for you. Though, to be honest, the two of you making love is slightly…heart-breaking.'

'I…'

'You misunderstand,' Dorian interrupted, sitting up. 'I never realised how poorly I've treated her, throughout all these years, when she had a front row seat to my parade of happiness with…with…Altus Hadrian,' he forced himself to say. 'Now I get to hear you two, and my first temptation is to grab a broom and bang on the chimney so you can at least stop being so loudly…erm, entangled in amorous toils. Be thankful that I am dreadfully frightened of both brooms and the splinters that I might get from their handles that I don't…bang.'

Solas measured the human though half lidded eyes, then stood and seamlessly refilled Dorian's cup.

'If Veldrin could forgive me,' he cautiously spoke, lingering while still holding the bottle, 'then, perhaps, with the passage of months, or years, you too might come to forgive…'

'She hasn't really forgiven you, and I do not think you have completely forgiven her, either.' Dorian muttered. 'Not yet, at least. Plus, you never betrayed her – you lied to her, true, but even after the acid of this bleeding life has washed away all but the core of you both, what made you alike is far stronger than what separated you… You disagree on the means and the proportion of your people's restoration, but you've never disagreed on that they should be restored. Whereas Lexi…'

'Did you find out why he proceeded as he did?' Solas softly asked. 'It was assuredly not cowardice, my agents reported such extensive injuries that…'

'Oh, it was cowardice, but of a different brand. He slept with his wife for the specific purpose of giving his family an heir,' the human said. 'Creating a legacy. Submitting to the Tevinter that I would fight, and did, and will…and thus, there is no common core. Did Vel put you up to this?'

'Your words confound me?' Solas questioned, in return.

'She must have, because, otherwise…'

'My friend,' the elf said, his blue eyes wide and clear of lies, 'Veldrin and I have not discussed Altus Hadrian at all. You and your diamond ring are a sore subject already, and if it was not for your metal forged bond, her Magister ring alone might have given you reason to not only bang on the chimney, but break down the door. Not to dissuade us from any amorous pursuits, but to prevent us from keeping half of Minrathous awake with our shouting at each other.'

'Small favours,' Dorian sighed. 'I gather, then,' he hesitantly followed, 'that you still disagree with her chosen course of action.'

'Violently so, yes.' Solas said.

'There goes my lack of desire for paranoia. Is Mystery's magic so strong that…'

The elf shook his head, but whether he was expressing consent or denial, Dorian could not tell, and Solas' next words provided no further clarity.

'It is and isn't,' he answered. 'Do you know how my markings were created?'

'No,' Dorian cautiously said. 'I can only assume it was unsavoury, but Radonis is the only one in possession of the complete truth – Mystery and Contemplation aside, of course. None of them seem in the mood to share, thus…'

'It is for the best,' Solas slowly nodded, then took another sip of his drink. 'I must confess that I had suspected you and Veldrin of complicity in their doings, but I am now deeply assured neither of you is…Which makes me only wish to further reinforce my warning to you, Dorian. Or should I say, Lord Dawnbringer, to again help your arithmetic?' he eerily chuckled.

'No 'lords' here. It's a nickname, no more,' the Magister shrugged. 'For all it means to me, they might as well call me Sparkler.'

'Hm.'

'What hm?'

'Well,' Solas replied, 'I assure you there will be a Lord Dawnbringer, soon, and it will be far more than a nickname.'

'I doubt that,' Dorian incredulously laughed, refilling his glass. 'I too get the sensation that there is more to Vel's appellative than simple deference…'

This time, the elf decisively nodded.

'There is. You might not have noticed it, because she has yet to manifest it around you, but Veldrin is a Somniari, a powerful one at that; given time, which I have amply provided, she will begin to manifest it, and strongly.'

'There are no Elvhen Somniari,' Dorian said, furrowing his brow, 'and even human Somniari are getting fewer and fewer. Besides, does that not require sustained usage of blood magic?'

'Not for the Elvhen, no. You forget that before the veil, the people freely consorted with spirits are demons alike – blood magic was not unknown, but it was not a prerequisite, and Veldrin manifested long before the idea of blood magic even occurred to her.'

'When, dare I ask?'

'Once we reached Skyhold,' Solas said. 'I'd brought her, and all of you, there because it was once hallowed ground, and still retained much power; it was intended as protection against Corypheus, of course, but it awoke Veldrin. It enhanced me, too, and I thought that I needed it. I was still unsure of her, and so I gave her a dream, meant to…lure her more to my side, if you will.'

'No end to the surprises with you, eh?' Dorian muttered. 'And none of them good…'

The elf apologetically shrugged. 'I had already failed with Corypheus, I could not afford a tactical mistake of the same proportions with her – I needed to make sure that the foci was returned to me, once she had recovered it.'

'Oh, and you thought making out in the Fade was going to achieve that?' the human asked, his voice brimming with despise.

'Dorian,' Solas grumbled, 'if seduction, then treason, had been my intent do you not think I might have been a tad more insistent? Or gone about it in a different manner? She was already drawn to me, and I to her, it would not have been difficult. Yet, I was already sufficiently taken with her that that path was closed, at least where I was concerned. I'd not meant to seduce her in that dream, merely sway her…'

'Well, whatever happened there did get some results…'

'Not because of me. Because of her. She took my dream and turned it against me – from captor to captive in only a heartbeat. She should not have been able to do that, but she succeeded, and I was defenceless. Not only that, but the effects lingered in my woken state, which is why I never chanced it again, not until the very end; being around her was hard enough, and I would have come to love her in any event.'

'So, you're telling me Veldrin tricked you into falling in love with her?' Dorian chuckled, and Solas responded with a sad smile. 'Beat you at your own game?'

'In a sense,' the elf answered. 'But she merely tricked me out of my decision to not fall in too deep…Sadly for her, and perhaps for all of us, I am a Somniari aware of his talents, and she was no match for me, otherwise she could have avoided this entire debacle.'

'Hm, true,' the human thoughtfully said. 'The legends of Tevinter Somniari being able to fully manipulate others are long standing, and not that far past in history. Varric spoke of one who could make men kill each other at a distance, while he was with Hawke, and Aurelian Titus was not too far behind.'

'Quite possible,' Solas shrugged. 'It need not be an ominous talent, if properly trained and reined in; let us just say that if a century from now your Senate starts inexplicably freeing slaves left and right, Veldrin might have a hand in it.'

'I still do not see how that reflects on me, though.' Dorian said, standing to stretch and steal a glance at the clock. 'Vel may truly be special, and maybe if you tell her what you've just told me, she'll put some training into it, but I will not live to see it – I somehow don't fancy myself a century and a half old, drooling fossil.'

The elf smiled. 'You won't need to be that.'

'Your veil manipulation only increases the life spans of elves. I am still human.'

'You are,' Solas laughed, 'otherwise you would see that not everything begins and ends with the veil…Daren'thal will explain it to you at the opportune moment, at some point in the near future when you will be very hard pressed to refuse her, so I will not steal her thunder.'

He searchingly gazed at the Magister, some melancholy in the depths of his eyes.

'I just wonder how you will take it,' he said, in a distant, dreamy voice. 'I wonder if you will take it…'

'Oh, Maferath's balls,' Dorian cursed, once more refilling his glass, 'could only one of you not speak in riddles? For once?'

Solas's gaze turned to warm amusement. 'I could be enticed to further clarification if I could get another cup of brandy. Poured by a Magister and a future God, at that.'

Dorian laughed, despite himself, and filled the elf's cup once more. 'I'm questioning the wisdom of this, Solas,' he jested. 'You seem to be quite gone already. If you drink two more of these…'

'I plan on more than that,' the elf replied. 'Might put me to sleep before I start finding your sense of humour as tolerable as I do your brandy.'

'Well, and before I start remembering that the last person you are known to have drank with ended up in a prison in the Fade…' Dorian replied, taking a seat, not on the distant couch, but on one of the armchairs that stood before the desk.

'Anaris should also have warned you to never play checkers or cards with me while drunk, I tend to collect,' Solas joked, in turn. 'You, my friend, have forgotten something. Should I let you guess or…?'

'Or you could just tell me, Gods,' the Magister sighed, rolling his eyes.

'The veil, no matter how weak or strong, will indeed not grant you semblance of immortality, nor can Anaris and Daren'thal. My armour, the one that Daren'thal took off me on Seheron, however, can.'

Dorian snorted his drink though his nose, and it took him a few long moments to recover from laughing and coughing at the same time. Judging by the puzzled look on Solas' face, it was not quite the reaction the elf had expected…but it could not be helped.

'Wait, you're serious?' the human managed, wiping his nose and chin with a freshly pressed and ridiculously ornate handkerchief.

'Yes?' Solas asked back, his eyes wide in amazement. 'Why would I lie?'

'Brandy?' Dorian shot back. 'Wait, I think I have a set of cards hidden somewhere around, this moment cannot be missed!'

'I am dead serious, Dorian,' the elf frowned. 'It became clear to me the very moment they greeted you as an equal.'

'I would have judged you as slightly distracted at the time. What with being whipped and beaten and all…'

Solas narrowed his eyes. 'Perhaps this is why we do not explain much,' he scolded. 'Even if we do…'

Dorian defensively lifted his palms.

'I'm sorry if I offended you there, Solas, but this is probably worthy of one of poor Varric's tall tales. Why would Anaris and Daren'thal even think of such a thing?'

'When you are ready to concentrate…Ahem.'

'I am unsure I can, after that one, but…How do you always manage to make me feel as if I were about to fail at some examination?' the human sighed.

'Because you have the tendency to fail mine in a spectacular manner?' Solas answered, arching an eyebrow. 'Look,' he followed, picking a fresh parchment and a pen, and beginning to draw after carefully wiping off all excess ink from the pen's tip.

'You're not drunk at all,' Dorian muttered.

'Not even tickled yet, Shem,' the elf sternly replied. 'Look,' he repeated, beginning to draw – upside down, and with no hesitation, Dorian realised. Solas was drawing for him, and he possessed enough concentration that he could draw in a mirror.

There was one, large, perfect circle. Then, seven smaller ones, so evenly distanced that Solas might have measured their positioning with a ruler; the only small consolation the human could extract was the fact that Solas had minutely hesitated before beginning to inscribe each with symbols. It was truly the only hesitation, though.

'The entirety of the Elvhen pantheon was meant to be this,' Solas explained, as he linked the seven circles along their outer sides with yet more irritatingly perfect straight lines. 'Creation, magic, intelligence, invention, endurance, time, destruction. If you think of Veldrin's Creators, you would see it as Ghilan'nain…' he began, pointing at one of the circles; this time, however, Dorian was not caught on the wrong foot.

Creation, arising from destruction. Andruil's creation of Ghilan'nain.

'Elghar'nan,' he said, pointing at the second circle, then following Solas' logic. 'Dirthamen. June. Sylaise. Mythal. Andruil. All linked.'

'You may yet pass this examination,' Solas said, dryly. 'Go on.'

'Then, for our Old Gods…Zazikel, Razikale, Lusacan, Urthemiel, Andoral, Toth, Dumat.' Dorian spoke, his hand drifting over the page. 'Rebirth, Mystery, Contemplation, Beauty, Merit, Fire, Silence.'

'Again, all linked,' the elf nodded. 'But unlike the Evanuris, the Forgotten did think of themselves as independent spheres of interest or influence. Since they named themselves Gods, they saw themselves as the very cycle of history.'

'For the Evanuris, you can start at any point in the circle, as all of them had double aspects – fire can save one's life or end it. Andruil can destroy and create. June can be evolution, but also upheaval of old ways, when new ways are found. Mythal was justice and vengeance alike.'

Solas' fascinatingly steady hand linked all the spheres on the inside, this time. 'The Fogotten were never that. Their duality, while also present is far less pronounced, and they took great care is separating what they viewed as their domains, to prevent future conflict. A wheel,' he softly said, when all the spokes were connected, passing neatly though a centre that was no larger than a point. Of history, of time, of knowledge…They relied on each other, and none of them wished to be ruler to more than one aspect. It matters not. Now, think of your friends, Anaris and Daren'thal, and see what they feel we all have done to them.'

Resting the black ink pen in its appropriate pot, Solas drew another pen, from a pot of red ink.

'Primordial Silence, he who pre-dates creation,' he said, crossing the symbol of Dumat out. 'Dead. Mystery and Contemplation, alone. Beauty, lost.'

He did not cross Urthemiel's symbol out, though. Just marred it with red ink along the edges.

'Merit, dead. Rebirth, dead. Fire, dead.'

'And you think they want to get that…cycle…back?' Dorian frowned. 'Why not keep all the power to themselves?'

'Mystery and Contemplation alone would not keep history turning; they are both passive principles,' Solas said, shaking his head. 'Think of how many things they could not have accomplished without you and Veldrin. And they obviously think highly of both Morrigan and her son.'

'But that would mean letting three humans into the holy goat's domain, excuse my phrasing,' Dorian muttered.

'Morrigan is not fully human,' Solas refuted, 'and neither is Kieran. Besides, neither Anaris nor Daren'thal seek a complete Elvhen restoration, as I do... The world that they seek to control now is mixed, and they are wise enough to understand that humans will not follow Elvhen Gods, but they will follow human ones. Like you, Dorian.'

The Magister drew a deep breath, then all but inhaled his own cup of brandy.

'Why is it that I find the prospect of immortality horrible?' he asked at long length.

'Because for a human it involves watching everything that one has ever loved wither and die,' Solas said, kindly. 'With my armour, you will not only outlive Altus Hadrian – since the veil is still partly in place, you might outlive Veldrin as well. The offer of my armour will come to you at such a time that you cannot refuse it, and I think you will take it…'

'Yes, and then take it off,' Dorian laughed. 'It was not fused to you, it will not become fused to me, either.'

Solas shrugged. 'To the flesh, perhaps not, but to the mind…You will see. There will always be one more thing to do, one more law to pass, one more war to fight, and, in the end…Take heart,' he chuckled, 'only the first millennium is hard.'

'But why me?' Dorian asked, incredulously shaking his head once more. 'You tell me Veldrin is a Somniari, and your weakened veil will greatly enhance her powers as well as her lifespan. I don't know what Morrigan is, but Kieran was the vessel of an Old God…'

'And is a Therein by blood, as well as the King's first born,' the elf reminded. 'Do not presume Anaris and Daren'thal have forgotten that little detail, or that their affairs only regard mysticism.'

'Still, all of the others have some unnatural power. I do not.'

'Not unnatural, but you still have something that they do not.' Solas said, smiling. 'Perhaps,' he added, pushing his drawing of the celestial wheel aside, and gently pushing the transcription of Alexius' diaries to the fore, 'you should re-read these. More carefully this time.'

Dorian looked away and bit his lower lip in thought.

'I'd never use this,' he softly said. 'I…'

'You only saved them for record keeping purposes?'

'You were there when I and Veldrin returned from Alexius' future, Solas. Don't start with me, unless you're planning to shape-shift back into the Lady Mystery and have a hearty laugh at my expense.'

'If I were Daren'thal, I'd tell you that it is fate itself that made you keep them,' Solas replied, still smiling sadly. 'Just for curiosity's sake, how long did I last against red lyrium in that future?'

'A little over a year,' Dorian shrugged. 'I assume that you were captured immediately after I and Vel disappeared, so it is just a guess; you died defending us, so you might have lasted longer... Why do you ask?'

'Curiosity, as mentioned,' the elf said – it was not entirely convincing, but given the other revelations of the eve, Dorian chose not to dwell on it; other, more concerning things rose to mind, and he picked up Solas' drawing, beholding it with attention.

'If I were to believe your…card reading prediction here,' Dorian thoughtfully uttered, 'it would be somewhat poetic. Time,' he whispered, almost to himself. 'Time, as companion to Patience…Am I to be the Madman of Chaos in this reiteration of your cosmic wheel?'

'Not unless you go mad,' Solas chuckled. 'I somehow trust that you will not. And, last I saw her, the one you called Zazikel was very female. Bit on the hefty side, though, so perhaps the mistake was not hard to make.'

'Oh, so like Cassandra?'

'Slightly bigger,' the elf shrugged. 'About a foot taller, two feet wider…'

'Maker, how big was she?'

'The size of a healthy Qunari that is pregnant with triplets - let us just leave it at that, lest my sense of humour becomes even more abhorrent than yours.'

Solas refilled both of their cups, then glanced regretfully at whatever remained in the bottle. 'This not going to get me very much past tickled,' he observed. 'Let alone force sleep upon me…'

'Serves you well,' Dorian sighed. 'After what you've told me, I won't get a wink for a week.'

'I apologise,' the elf sincerely said. 'I still felt it necessary…Alexius was dear to you…'

'He was the only father I recognised as such, yes.'

'His mistake, casting-wise, was not manipulating time, Dorian,' Solas said. 'His mistake was the fact that he did so without being fully prepared for it; despair induced rush, and so…If I recall correctly, he did not even realise that his spell had actually functioned. He didn't know what he was doing, he was ill prepared for the cast, and he did not employ it on himself, so that he could control what would happen when he so rushed the future.'

'He thought that he was rushing the past,' Dorian mumbled.

'So, the spell still needs further work; I've taken some liberties with…erm, annotations…'

'Why am I starting to get the very unpleasant feeling that once I fall under the table drunk, you'll send yourself back in time, and…'

Solas laughed. 'No, no – if Daren'thal thought that I had the slightest intention of doing that, we'd not be here, speaking, and if I were capable of doing it, well…we would not be here, speaking.'

'At least you're honest.'

'Nothing else is left to me, in this at least…' the elf shrugged.

'I've no intention of casting that thing, Solas,' Dorian said, softly. 'I would lie to say that I did not modify it slightly for battle purposes, or that I have not used some of its marginal side effects, but I would never use it to full effect. Not again. It's too dangerous, and, just like your armour, the thing that I fear most about it is addiction…'

'…temptation?'

'Don't mock me in my own library, elf,' the Magister jokingly warned, ignoring Solas' grimace. 'Yes, temptation too. Imagine what I or anyone could do, if the spell would be perfected; I am an exceptional mage, but there are other exceptional mages – if this were to get out…'

'I am sure Anaris and Daren'thal would make sure that it becomes the Holy Book of Dawn, or some such nonsense,' Solas scoffed.

'Yes, well, the Vir'Abelassan was meant to be a holy secret too, yet, lo and behold…'

He wistfully glanced at the parchments. 'I am…flattered, of course, by the fact that you think I could control myself to such an extent. For once, you give me more credit than even I might – let's say I could go back in time to prevent some disaster of epic proportions…I know, har-har…but technically, I could never go back far enough to stop this disaster.'

'Elaborate?' Solas said, setting his glass aside.

'Think logically,' Dorian said, with a little smirk. 'If I were to poof! appear in Arlathan, ten millennia ago, grab you by the shirt and try to shake some sense into you, before all of this was kindled, would you listen to me? I mean, out of thin air embodies a creature that none of you has ever seen before, and in a prophetic, yet charmingly masculine, booming voice it yells – Stop whatever you're doing, and play nicely together! You've no idea how this story ends!'

'True,' the elf conceded. 'You'd be slain on the spot. Or you'd very fast be turned into a statue that future generations would gawk at.'

'And, even if you did believe me, I'd be erasing the entirety of human civilisation, because you would have warning that we are coming, that we will destroy you and yours. I somehow think I'd rather not do that. Also, we have no idea how it all loops – if I die ten millennia ago, and human civilisation never happens, then I will never be born, I'd never cast the spell, and we're back to where we started…'

'You've given all this quite a bit of thought, for someone who never intended to use it,' Solas ironically remarked.

'If you had it before your eyes for the past decade, wouldn't you have?' Dorian surrendered. 'No, the farthest I could go back is Heaven, after we confronted Alexius – then, I would believe myself, and Vel would believe me, but can we be sure it would change anything? I do not know how powerful you were, even back then. I have an inkling of a suspicion you never revealed your full magic; even if we were forewarned, I think you more than capable of simply vanishing. Vel would still destroy your orb, and we would still have no control over yourself and Mythal.'

The Magister angrily shook his head. 'There,' he breathed out. 'It is not only dangerous, but useless.'

'I disagree,' Solas evenly said. 'It will always be dangerous. It is, however, no longer useless, because now you have Daren'thal. If you'd had her during the year of the Inquisition…'

'What's your agenda now, Solas?' the human smirked. 'You are almost goading me to use the spell, and I doubt it is because you give a fig about Anaris and Daren'thal's celestial balance. They might, but you don't…'

'I am transparent, it seems,' Solas sighed, emptying the bottle into his glass. 'I am not goading you to use the spell, I'm just…I'm just trying to…'

'See how well you can manipulate me?'

'No. I'm just trying to prepare you as best I can for the moment when you realise that this time part of my agenda is also yours.'

Dorian wrinkled his nose. 'I am unsure how that would be possible; you're chained to the cause, and if you could you'd set yourself free and fight against us rather than with us. My agenda is still saving this world, yours is still destroying it.'

'Correct,' Solas lightly admitted. 'But the battle ahead is not what I am talking about; there is something else, far more important than that that only the two of us have in common.'

'Oh Gods, with the…'

…doodles again, Dorian might have said, before Solas placed his left hand on the table – the few strands of golden thread in the weave glinted as sharply as daggers.

'Kaffas,' the human muttered.

Solas simply shrugged, and drank his glass to the bottom.

Well, they did not fight. And no one fell under the table...

Though bending space and time is still not a great idea. Is it?

Thank you for reading and commenting, and we raise our glass of tolerable brandy to you, and us, for posting on a weekly cycle again :)

Cheers, Abstact & IvI :)