Dream and waking lay before their feet,

Two paths diverging.

Into the dream they strode, dauntless.

Silence 2: 23-26

'How sad is it for you, to have her instead of me?'

Oddly enough, Solas felt no anger, he simply felt overwhelming fear, for Andruil, Andruil, as beautiful, as wily and as cruel as he remembered her ran her fingers through Veldrin's hair, then held the other woman's hand up, to look at the small bonding braid.

'Join me, and I shall not kill her,' Andruil said, rising on her elbow, then carelessly tossing her hair over her shoulder; Vel muttered something incomprehensible and turned her back on both him and the woman who had arisen from nothing in between them, but who nonetheless lay in their sheets.

Good.

'Do I detect a mild whiff of desperation?' Solas asked, arching an eyebrow.

'If you do,' Andruil replied, 'it's your own, and that of your newly rediscovered friends…I mean…'

She needed not explain what she meant – she simply ran her fingers along the lines of his tattoos, and grinned as he hissed and pulled away.

'To bring you back, they must be desperate,' the Huntress concluded, sitting up and crossing her legs – bare breasts and open sex on full display.

Oddly enough, though he could still see her undeniable beauty, the view left Solas unimpressed. She was attempting an intrusion to his mind, as well, for he felt a ridiculous and utterly irrational sense of ease, and his initial fear was all but gone, now – Sylaise. Yet, Andruil was miscalculating, he thought. Her newly acquired powers worked well on those who did not expect them, and far less so on those who did.

On this occasion, Andruil was merely sabotaging herself.

'Do you not wonder,' he bravely spoke, 'what might happen if Anaris just casually walked in here?'

'Still hiding behind him?' she quipped. 'Ten thousand years and…'

'Or what might happen if Veldrin woke up?'

'Oh, this thing?' Andruil giggled, half looking over her shoulder. 'She's nothing. I could have stabbed her in the throat before you even sensed I was here.'

'But you did not,' Solas answered, smiling. 'Because, despite everything that you have done, you are actually beginning to feel that things might slip away from you, and that you will not get your bloodshed and battle. Thus, that you still need me and Veldrin.'

'No,' she contradicted, with a seductive purr. 'Only you. But I have been watching you for the past fortnight, and you do seem rather keen on your pitiful pet, here…You even bonded with her…So, if you finally stop being disagreeable, I am here to tell you that you might get to keep her. For as long as she lasts, of course.'

He measured her through attentively narrowed eyes, not wondering at her words, but wondering what he had seen in her, millennia before… She was, of course, still stunning, but…

'Is the effort of mastering the powers you stole so great that you have lost mastery of your own talents?' he asked. 'Because the Andruil I knew would have smelled a dying animal a mile off.'

The woman shook her head in annoyance, but grinned in a way that completely erased the soothing effects of Sylaise's powers.

'You might say that since all of you reek of death, my sense of smell was…slightly overwhelmed. But no,' she agreeably said, 'I smell you well enough; the stench of the tainted lyrium is quite particular. Which should make you realise that my offer is far better than you think. And, instead of being joyous, you actually look as if you did wish Anaris would come to your aid. Or that this mite would not be so sensitive to my new-found strengths that she would not wake up even if I pushed off the bed.'

Solas swallowed dry and clenched his teeth. It was true, he thought – if she had been awake, Veldrin would have resisted any magic done upon her, either Dirthamen's or Sylaise's. She was, however, asleep and relaxed. Deaf to the world. And defenceless.

It truly was for the best.

'So what do you think you can give me, Andruil?' he asked. 'You might have taken a bite of Sylaise and Elghar'nan – congratulations…But you obviously have not mastered June. Was she too menial to…'

'…for me to even try to sharpen my teeth on her bones and skinny, flat arse?' Andruil smiled, baring her perfect dentition – and this he remembered all too well, because she had willed herself to have canines, whereas the teeth of all other elvhen were flat. 'I did, never fear. Else I would not be able to understand the vallaslin you were given. Never one for books, me,' she chuckled. 'I know that Daren'thal cannot watch me, but that she can watch you – that she probably is. Which should only make you think fast, Solas – if Anaris does walk in here, there is only one of us who can vanish.'

'He is the rather unfortunate position of needing me, too, so you've gained nothing but inform him of your plans.' he said, dryly. 'You could not pull the wool over a human mage's eyes, you are certainly not good enough to deceive Anaris. There is nothing you can give me…'

Let's see, Andruil. Let's hear what you are truly here to offer.

'Nothing except this, you mean?' the woman asked – she reached out for his hand, and he extended it, half hesitating and half hoping that she had indeed absorbed June, that she…

She had; once his hand had been offered, Andruil did not reach for his fingers, she reached for his wrist, instead, and once she'd grabbed it, her grip became as strong as a dwarven vice's might have been, and she began drawing small circles with her thumb. The pain was nought but the prick of a needle, at first, but it soon became scalding, and he willed himself not to scream and pull away, for it all felt as if he'd been holding his entire forearm over an open flame. He'd been through so much worse though, so much worse…It was not the pain he could not bear. It was the hope…

A fine mist of lyrium dust ripped through his skin from the inside and gathered about Andruil's thumb before solidifying into a crystal. A tiny, tiny one, three specs of sand melted together, but undeniably there, floating before his eyes.

'I can give you back all that you once were,' Andruil whispered – he barely heard her. 'I can give us our world back. The non-people offend me as much as they do you; why deny yourself our true path, our true meaning? Just because a little mortal girl thinks that she has allowed you to take her, when you know that it is in both of our natures to take, without asking…'

'Stand by my side,' she enticed. 'I'll let you keep her, just as she keeps you, these days. Bound and eager to please.'

'How long would it take you to remove all the red lyrium from my body?' Solas asked, his eyes narrowed. 'That was a thousandth of what is within me.'

'After you have opened a wide enough doorway to the beyond, I shall take death from you in less than a heartbeat.' Andruil replied. 'And then, you will take me to Arlathan, and them, to their rightful, dark and forgotten place.' She whispered. 'Together, we shall each have what we want: you will have your world, your vindication and your toy; I shall have my kingdom…'

'You realise that Daren'thal is hearing all of this,' Solas said, in a neutral voice.

'So what?' she shrugged, making her small, pert breasts sway. 'She can listen to us all she likes. She may see causality, but she can't see past crossroads in people's souls. I've just gifted you with a crossroad: from now until we next meet, even you won't know where your heart is. Neither will she. The burden of choice is but the gift of freedom in disguise. Isn't it?'

Andruil vanished, leaving her poison to spread through his veins – and so he sat, immobile and lost, until Veldrin turned and sighed in her sleep; he unconsciously pulled the blankets up, to cover her shoulder and half exposed breast…or maybe to straighten out the valley in their sheets the other woman had created.

Burden of choice. Gift of freedom…

'Curses,' he whispered, creeping out of bed and silently pulling his clothes on.

He reckoned there was not much chance that even the most permissive of the Pavus guards would let him sleep under the stars, as he longed to do, but he would at least catch a glimpse of the sky before he bundled himself inside the dark carriage. He hated to leave Veldrin alone, not because he thought Andruil a threat to her, but he had no hope of any clear thought by her side – her physical presence might have been enough to blur his mind by itself, but her Fade imprint…

Solas took a quiet step outside the tent, then stopped short, in surprise; the guards were not asleep, they were frozen, standing upright, with their eyes open, living statues of armoured men.

'I gather,' he said, to Anaris' turned back, 'that you and your sister are in the mood for a talk.'

The other nodded, without turning, and continued to contemplate the dying embers of a fire.

He was the last person that Solas wished as company, yet, at least he was underneath the stars. He tiredly sat by Anaris' side, and tried not to glance at his wheeled coffin. He leaned back on his arms and looked to the sky instead.

'Why did you not stop her?' Solas asked, at long length. 'You could have.'

'We gambled on her hubris and lost,' Anaris dreamily replied. 'We thought she would reveal something new of her plans, or just pointlessly attempt to lure you…It worked half-way, for Mystery had a firm grasp on your mind until Andruil…Gave you a choice. Or restored your ability to make choices – we did not know she could do that.'

It was Solas' turn to nod.

'June should not have known about red lyrium, or how to manipulate it,' he said. 'You could not have predicted that she…'

'An informed gamble is still a gamble, Pride. It is no consolation. We should not have chanced, because now…'

'She's split the future.'

'She hasn't. You have, but it is irrelevant who the instrument was,' Anaris half shrugged.

'Can you undo it?' Solas blurted, then straightened, in vexation at himself; the dragon God humourlessly chuckled.

'You, refusing the gift of freedom, brother? Or has something changed, after the oceans of time we've all crossed, and you have grown too weak for the burden of choice?'

Solas shook his head, and distractedly looked over the sea of tents that surrounded them. 'Merely more aware of how fallible I was when I thought myself strong enough to bear it. I presume,' he followed, breathing in deeply, 'that I should feel some form of joy because you've finally come to face the fact that you and Daren'thal are fallible too, but I feel nothing of the sort. Can she truly not see…'

'No. It is just as Andruil said: Mystery can see past the tribulations of the mind, if the heart has already made a decision, but you have not. Your soul is a battlefield, and she cannot see the victor. We could kill you now; we have already explored that path, and the many paths that could go forth from it, yet none of them are good. For the people. For the humans. For all.'

'Am I truly that irreplaceable?' Solas scoffed; Anaris shot him a vile glance.

'You're not irreplaceable, Pride, but if there is ever to be peace, or any sort of balance between our people and the humans, the Lady Patience is, because she is truly the Restorer of Truth. In some ways, the preserver of balance. If we kill you now, before the fate of the world truly comes to rest in your incapable hands once more, she will have to die too, taking your place, because no one else can manipulate the Veil, or face Andruil in the beyond.'

'Your courage brings me to tears, truly…'

'Your ignorance does, too,' the dragon God replied, with a terrible scowl. 'And ignorance of your own good works at that!'

Solas could not help but look about himself in alarm, yet none moved. The world around them was still deaf and blind.

'We shan't grow more powerful in the beyond,' Anaris snarled. 'Our true bodies and our powers are still trapped by your treason; what you are seeing here is what the Ancient Imperium saw – new bodies, and projections of those powers.'

'You are not illusions, though,' Solas said, feeling as if he had been punched in the stomach.

How did I not…

'See it?' the other answered, in a strangled chuckle. 'I do not know, Pride, because you are, as always too short sighted? Too rash? We did not cannibalise each other to escape your treachery, as the others did; we've not completely broken loose of your coffin because we were unwilling to sacrifice each other…'

'You had no qualms with sacrificing others.' Solas muttered.

'Mortals are born to die and other mortals take their place, only to die in turn – it matters not whether death comes for them sooner rather than later. We never changed their fates, we merely hurried them along, for a good purpose.'

It was Solas' turn to outright laugh.

'O-of course,' he said. 'The Imperium. Your Imperium.'

'Our order, any order, was better than the chaos you left behind, Pride. A world in which none knows their place…'

'…is a world where all are free to choose it,' Solas answered, his jaws locked together in anger.

'Oh, really?' Anaris laughed. 'People can choose where they are born? To whom they are born? I shan't have this discussion again with you, brother, we never end it. Look at us, sitting here, Solas – speaking the same words we spoke millennia ago, only without the long-eared innkeeper, and without wine…'

'At least Andruil is still about, and no less keen on ruining both our evenings.' Solas observed, with a deep sigh; the smile that passed between them, then, could almost have looked warm.

It lasted but a moment. Darkness and cold descended upon them once more, and they looked away from each other. Solas shivered, slightly; in turn, Anaris woke the dying embers into fire.

'You truly think you cannot defeat her without me?' Solas asked.

Anaris shook his head. 'It's not defeat that is the hurdle,' he earnestly replied, 'unless, of course, she is the victor on battlefield in your soul, and to her side you turn, in which case our defeat is inevitable. So Daren'thal speaks. So it shall be.'

Of course.

'We can defeat her, but we cannot hold her. Even without you we could cross in the beyond, but the Lady Patience can only seal Andruil back where she belongs if she gives her soul for it, and remains imprisoned alongside her. Her instincts good and her powers great as they may be, she doesn't master them enough for her to re-create your prison and simply walk away. How could she? Five and forty summers…'

'The veil has kept all of you at bay, while it lasted…' Solas said.

'We've no intention of restoring the veil,' the dragon God simply said. 'Our souls might still linger in your prison, but our powers will grow to their original height in time – we are not in a rush. It is good that you left your wicked barrier as you did. Mayhaps, in centuries to come, and once the unchanging world is again used to the echoes of ours, we shall let the Lady Patience weaken it further, so that a balance can be achieved…Not fully,' he warned, 'so think this not an enticement or bribe. None can stand in between people and their will, regardless of race; in the full absence of the veil, our people would complete your legacy. Human blood will be spilled until this very desert will become a swamp, and all farmers will plough through human bones.'

The sand felt cold, and somewhat damp, in sign that dawn would soon be upon them, but Solas did not care. He simply laid back, arms crossed under his head – he remained silent for so long that Anaris looked over his shoulder to him, in irritation.

'What are you doing?' he asked.

'Thinking,' Solas responded. 'Stargazing. I know you hate stargazer flowers, they used to make you sneeze so…'

Once, long ago. When we were both still young and thought we understood our meanings…Are we even truly mortal?

'The stars themselves were harder, then. Sharper. Brighter.' he whispered.

'Because you had not raised the barrier, yet, Pride,' Anaris reproachfully said. 'Some of us still had the bravery to reach for them, hard and sharp as they were. You…'

'You truly care for your humans, do you not?'

'We do,' the Dragon God simply replied. 'Not only because they are easily swayed to worship, but because gazing upon the same garden for all eternity gets rather dull, after a while…Why do you think we went to such great lengths and took such chances to prevent them from coming to blows, here?'

'Oh, I can think of a few not-so-noble reasons,' Solas said, still looking at the sky. 'If this end in your victory, you will have your Imperium back, not only in Tevinter, but stretching like a Blight over the entirety of Theadas…Your order, as you wish to name it, yet all challenges would come to an end, and you will finally obtain what I prevented you from creating...'

'…or, differently phrased, destroying something before you even knew what it might have become.'

'I see what it has become, and it is quite enough,' Solas sighed.

'Do you? Perhaps you should stop stargazing and pining for the beyond, and take a closer look around, at…'

'What I made? No, thank you, I've stared at my grotesque mark upon the world for long enough.'

Anaris laughed – and it was the honest warmth in his voice that caused Solas to sit up and frown. His angry, disgust-laced leer did not make the other's amusement subside.

'See, Pride,' the dragon God spoke, amid chuckles, 'you blind even yourself…But Mystery sees all…You genuinely think that the crossroad that Andruil gifted, or burdened you with is what you will decide to do with the humans now.'

'And it is not?' Solas shot back.

'No, brother,' Anaris answered, still laughing. 'The question that plagues you, the one that the Dawnbringer and his brandy brought to mind and that you cannot for yourself answer…that not even Mystery can see beyond is what you might have done to the humans then.'

Then…At our height, with no veil to stint us. If I had known then what I know now…With no warfare to halve us from within. Then, when they would have been as powerless against us as the people are now against them, when they were yet to commit any crime against us…

Would I have still wished to destroy them all, then?

'That is the true question,' Anaris said; his voice was almost kind. 'All else – the wicked barrier, the fall of Elvhenan, the Lady Patience, even myself and Mystery - all else is but a dance of ghosts.'

He was right, and Solas knew he was right, but the very notion irritated him. The temptation of replying that all the things that Anaris had listed were not ghosts to him and hiding behind the familiar…love, guilt, despair, moral superiority…conjured spite… Yet there was no hiding, not from Daren'thal, and the one place where even she could not find him was a place he did not wish to travel to.

He could still feel angry, though.

'And I suppose you and Daren'thal have an answer to my existential conundrum?' he snarled. 'One that, incidentally, would resolve your existential conundrum?'

'No,' Anaris replied, searchingly gazing at the trembling, reddish horizon. 'Not because we fear that what we might tell you would push you in one direction or another. At least then, there would be no unmade choice to block Mystery's sight.'

We cannot give you an answer because we don't have one ourselves, Daren'thal spoke, in his thoughts.

If anyone has seen Local Man Ruins Everything meme, that would be Solas in this chapter.

But, of course, he ruined everything before.

Thank you for reading and commenting.

Cheers, Abstract & IvI