CHAPTER FIVE

Din'dirthera ma abelas – Do not say sorry.

hah'ren – elder, title of respect

Ma serranaas – Thank you

Myra was grateful for the time it took to travel back to Haven. Fennec was a pleasant companion, soft-spoken and easygoing. She rarely complained about the difficulties of the journey, though her quiet nature often worried Myra that her needs passed unmet. For example, if she let the girl serve her own food, she always underserved herself. After a couple nights of hearing nothing but her rumbling stomach, Myra began to prepare her portions, experimenting until she found the right amount to fill Fennec's stomach.

Often times, Myra could sense the fear radiating from the girl's body as she looked back down the road they traveled, and at night she'd cry out for her mama and papa. Yet, during the day she refused to speak of them, giving only the most elusive shrugs when asked how she was feeling.

Despite all this, Myra liked to think Fennec was warming up to her. The Herald was used to childcare from her time as First to the Keeper, and she kept Fennec, and the rest of the group, for that matter, entertained with songs and stories of elven lore. Fennec's favorite seemed to be the story of how Falon'Din came to guide the elderly to the Beyond. She asked to be told the same story every night Myra held her in her arms to help guide her to slumber. Usually, she fell asleep by the time Dirthamen lost sight of his brother from the other side of the Veil, but Myra always continued the story anyways. She found finishing the story with the same Dalish lullaby every night ensured Fennec a peaceful slumber, and she wondered if perhaps Falon'Din helped guide her in her dreams…

Eventually, they reached Haven.

"I will go and find Cullen. I wish to speak with him," Cassandra said and left the party.

"And I need to get back to my story," Varric said. "All this elven lore has my head swimming with ideas. I'll catch you later, Herald."

Solas, however, remained at Myra's side. "Well, we've made it safely back to Haven, and now with one new companion." He nodded politely at Fennec. "Now, I must ask, lethallan, what do you plan to do with the girl?"

Myra instinctively drew the small child closer. "I've been thinking about that too. I plan to keep her for the time being…maybe mount a search effort so we know what became of her parents."

"Killed amongst all the fighting, no doubt. Be wary, lethallan. The Breach remains our foremost priority," Solas said. "We can't afford any…distractions."

Fennec clenched her robes.

"Has my kindness offended you, lethallin?" Myra said, a hint of venom in her voice. She pet Fennec's hair to soothe her.

"Not at all, I hold no contempt for your actions. But the fate of Thedas rests on your shoulders, da'len. I merely wish to help you maintain a clear perspective."

Myra nodded slowly. "As you say." She looked towards the girl. "Come, Fennec, let's see if we can find a place for you to stay."

"I wanna stay with you, Myra," she said.

Myra smiled a little. "That can be arranged. I'll be able to keep a closer eye on you that way, make sure you're safe." She reached out and Fennec held her hand.

However, as they approached the Chantry, fear crept into Myra's heart. "Elgar'nan…" An angry rabble had congregated around the Chantry doors, mages on one side, Templars on the other.

"Your kind killed the Most Holy!" one Templar said.

"And your kind let her die!" a mage cried.

They seemed ready to fight. Cullen stepped in. "Enough!"

"Knight-Captain," the Templar said.

"That is not my title." He scolded the two sides. "We are not Templars anymore, we are all part of the Inquisition."

"And what does that mean, exactly?" The crowd parted to allow a man in Chantry robes to step through.

"Chancellor Roderick," Cullen said.

"The Inquisition said it would restore order, but I fail to see how you will achieve it."

Cullen's eyes narrowed. "Return to your duties, all of you!" The rabble dispersed at his bidding.

Myra stepped towards the Commander and the chancellor, who were talking heatedly amongst themselves.

"You can't just continue this parade of heretics!" Chancellor Roderick said. "We must wait for the Grand Clerics to elect a new Divine and follow her orders."

"We cannot afford to wait," Myra said.

"Ah, it's you, the great heretic in the flesh," the Chancellor called.

Myra smiled sweetly. "So nice to see you remember me. Now remember this, the old order failed, a new order must rise to take its place."

"And above all else, the Breach remains our priority," Cullen cut in.

The Chancellor huffed and stormed away, fuming.

Myra turned to Cullen. "So…why is the Chancellor still here?"

Cullen scoffed. "He's all bark. Besides, the last thing we need is for him to die at our hands, a martyr to his cause." The Commander shook his head. "Anyways, was there something you needed?"

"Yes, actually. Commander, I'd like you to meet the newest member of the Inquisition." Myra placed a hand on Fennec's back and gently guided her into the Commander's view. He smiled at the girl and crouched down to her eye level.

"Well, what a pleasant addition. Hello there, little one."

Fennec blushed and buried her face into Myra's robes.

"Who is our newest member, exactly?"

"She says her name is Fennec," Myra answered. "She's an orphan from one of the cottages outside of Redcliffe." Myra twirled one of Fennec's dark locks in her fingers. "I was wondering if we might get her situated in my quarters. I'd like to keep a close eye on her."

"Of course, I'll see to it. Are you injured, little one?"

Fennec peeked her face out from Myra's robes and shook her head. "Myra's been taking good care of me."

Cullen looked up and gave Myra a lopsided smile. "Well, I'm glad to hear that."

Myra flushed. Such a nice smile…"I'm going to go and get her some soup, then take her to my quarters to rest. It's been a long journey from the Hinterlands."

Cullen nodded. "I understand, I'll see to it that provisions are brought by the time you get back."

Myra smiled and felt her heart flutter a little. "Thank you, Commander. We'll talk later."

"Until then."

Myra took Fennec's hand and led her to the tavern. Flyssa greeted her in her usual flustered manner and served them their soup of the day, chicken and corn chowder. Myra secretly kept a close eye on Fennec, methodically eating her soup at the same pace as the girl.

They ate in silence for a while. Myra tried to make conversation, but Fennec wouldn't have it. She seemed skittish in the new environment. It wasn't until they got back to their quarters, safe from the public eye, that she began to talk.

"The snow's pretty," she said, staring out the window.

Myra smiled. "And cold?"

Fennec shut her mouth quickly, playing with the fraying strings of her rough-spun dress. Myra couldn't imagine how cold she must be.

The girl didn't have to answer. Myra grabbed her blankets from the bed and wrapped them around her. "Stay here and try to stay warm."

Her eyes widened. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to make you some new clothes."

"But when will you be back? Don't leave me!" Fennec cried. It was the first real emotion she'd seen from her.

"Hush, child." Myra sighed, pushing the child's grasping hands away. "I won't be gone long."

She left her quarters and headed to the crafting station. Harritt showed her how to work the crafting stations as she pulled together some wolf pelts. The black fur coat was small, but it should be enough to cover Fennec from her shoulders to knees. She had already begun criticizing the stitching on the left side as she left the smithy.

However, as she passed the training grounds, Commander Cullen stopped her.

"Herald, a word?"

Myra fumbled with the fur coat. She really should be getting back to Fennec… But if the Commander wanted a word… "Make it quick," she finally said.

"Right. I was simply wondering what you intended to do with the girl. Fennec, was her name? Cassandra was debriefing me, and she and I are both concerned about the whereabouts of her parents."

"Believe it or not, I share in your concern." Myra said.

Cullen cocked an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Was that ever in doubt?"

"Well…" Cullen shifted his weight to one side. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but haven't you been telling her stories of the elven gods?"

"Yes." Myra didn't see his point.

"And you realize Fennec is not an elf?"

"Obviously."

"Well…Cassandra and I just think…maybe she should be raised with stories of the Chantry, by her parents, of course."

Anger boiled inside Myra. Was he insinuating what she thought? That she was kidnapping a human child and indoctrinating her in the ways of her people? She didn't need to say a word.

"Erm…perhaps…I didn't think this through." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Let me make this clear: I intend to look for this girl's parents, and if they are dead, as she says, then her well-being will be my priority. If that means she wishes to go to the Chantry, then that is her choice that she can make on her own, without pressure from any party. Is that understood?"

"Erm…yes…sorry…"

"Anything else, Commander?" Myra said.

"No, Your Worship, that will be all."

"Good." Now that he's wasted a sufficient amount of my time…

On the way back to her small cabin, Myra was fuming. How dare he assume the absolute worse of her, and Cassandra too! Damn them both, may the Void take them. She shoved the door open, fur coat still in hand, but when she looked around…

"Shit, where is she?"

She threw the coat across the room and rushed out the door. Just like her to lose the blighted girl right after ensuring Cullen she would take care of her. Hadn't she told the brat to stay inside and keep warm? As she passed Cullen, she put up the façade that she was simply walking through Haven and not frantically looking for her lost little girl. Shit, shit, I need help. Who can I trust to help me find her?

Cassandra's heart was in the right place, Myra supposed, but she obviously didn't trust Myra, so why should Myra trust her?

Varric had a heart of gold, but she still felt wary around him.

That only left one companion, the only one she was growing to trust. And thank the Creators she thought to go to him first. She knocked on the door to Solas's cabin. The fellow elf smiled when he opened the door, then turned back. "Da'len, it appears we have a guest."

Fennec's eyes brightened when she saw Myra, but she made no move towards her caretaker, huddled by the fire and wrapped in two sets of fur blankets. Then, suddenly, Fennec's eyes turned fearful, as though realizing she had disobeyed Myra's orders to stay inside until she returned.

Myra's features softened and her anger dissipated as soon as she saw the small girl safe and sound. She rushed in past Solas and picked up the child, wrapping her up in her arms. "You had me worried sick."

"Sorry." Her mumbled apology was only muffled by all the blankets.

"Don't scare me like that again," she said.

"I found her wandering around Haven with only your bedsheets to keep her warm," Solas said. "So I brought her inside. She's asked for more stories of the elves, but I told her I couldn't tell them as well as you, so I told her stories of my journeys through the Fade."

"Thank you so much for keeping her safe," Myra said. "You have my deepest gratitude." She held Fennec close.

"You seem to care deeply for her."

"I do."

"It's…curious," he said. "But that is something to discuss another time, perhaps. For now," he sat in a nearby chair, "it is time for you tell us one of your stories."

Fennec's face lit up and she struggled out of Myra's arms to hurry next to Solas, eagerly awaiting her favorite storyteller.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you enjoy my stories just as much as the little one," Myra smirked at Solas.

"Perhaps," Solas said. "But you're buying time."

"Yes, and it was time enough."

Fennec watched in wide-eyed fascination as Myra began to tell the story of Dirthamen and the secrets he gave to the animals. Solas smiled gently as he listened to her melodic voice. Myra could see them absorbing every word, soaking in the tonal shifts and dramatic gestures.

After the part where the foxes traded their secrets for wings, Myra could see Fennec start to nod off by the fire. The Herald trailed off in her story, her voice tinkling to a halt like a music box. Warmth filled her upon seeing her little girl's slumbering form. She stood and went to scoop up the sleeping child, but Solas grabbed her hand.

"Do not stop," he requested gently.

"My audience is asleep," she said.

"Not all of them."

Myra looked to the ground trying to hide her blush.

"I'm sure you know how the story ends."

"I prefer your rendition, you make the gods personable," Solas said. "And your voice is pleasing to the ears."
"I enjoy yours as well," Myra said.

"Perhaps we should speak with each other more often."

"I'd enjoy that."

Solas stood there for a moment, his hand still holding hers. She could feel him studying her, trying to piece her together, perhaps? Myra kept her gaze glued to the floor, cursing her flushing cheeks.

Finally, Solas let go of her and scooped Fennec off the floor. "Come, I'll walk you to your cabin."

The cold gusts off the Frostbacks bit Myra and chilled her to the bone. She saw Solas draw Fennec closer and Myra wrapped the two sets of blankets around her more tightly. The snow and frost crunched underfoot as they walked to Myra's cabin on the other side of Haven. The winds only blew harder, pushing them to and fro, as they made it to her front door.

"Bring her in and close the door!" Myra shouted over the wind's howling. Solas heeded, shoving it shut with his shoulder. Fennec awoke momentarily from the jostling, but a few quiet words and a kiss on the forehead from Myra sent her back into a peaceful slumber.

"Mothering seems to come naturally to you," Solas said.

"I've had some practice," Myra smiled at him as she walked around the room to light the candles. The storm brewing had made for an early night.

"You might want to head out soon," she said. "Once that storm hits, it could take a while to clear up."

"That's not my concern," he said, walking over to the cot laid on the floor for Fennec and laying her there to rest.

"What is your concern, then?" Myra asked.

Solas approached her. "Overstaying my welcome."

Myra gave a light chuckle. "I know how we'll avoid that." She went to her desk and pulled out an unfinished bottle of wine from the drawer. "Rowan's Rose? I'm afraid I don't have glasses."

"A wistful spirit from a beautiful spirit, I could not ask for more."

Myra blushed and uncorked the bottle with a stray dagger on the desk. She took the first swig and felt the comforting burn of alcohol. "Flatterer." Myra passed the bottle to him. "If I wasn't mistaken, I'd say you're trying to bed me."
Solas gave a satisfied sigh after his swig and passed the bottle. "I was not the one who suggested the bottle." He smirked. "And perhaps you would be mistaken, I'd want more than to bed you."

"Really now?" Myra flashed a flirty smile. "I'm intrigued." She drank. "You intrigue me."

"Well, it seems we have much in common." Reach, pass, drink. "We each find the other intriguing."

Myra giggled and took two swigs. She could feel her body start to tingle, the beginnings of sweet intoxication. Solas seemed to be feeling it too, the way he leaned back, making himself at home on the bed. She'd never seen him so relaxed. Then again, he could probably say the same for her.

She took a moment to admire his lithe form, typical of all elves. His loose robes conveyed years of wandering and the wisdom he'd acquired along the way. She lusted for that knowledge. Often, she'd been told she was wise beyond her years, and she yearned for his kindred spirit.

"Where does your clan hail from?" Solas asked, jolting her from her thoughts.

"Mostly from the north, near the Free Marches."

"And you enjoyed your time in the clan?"

Myra scoffed. "Tis an oversimplification. Life has provided me much hardship."

"Were you bonded?"

Myra furrowed her brow. "What makes you ask?"

"The ring on your left hand. Did you think it had escaped my notice?"

"No." Myra twisted the bonding ring around her finger a few times. Its wood felt unusually chill to the touch. "I merely do not think of it." Myra's face fell. Trewyn… A profound sadness filled her being. How long had it been since she'd visited his grave?

Solas seemed to recognize the error of his actions immediately, standing up and rushing to her. "Lethallan, ir abelas. I did not realize—"

Damn this wine. Damn this intoxication. The tears came too easily, escaping the prison of her scrunched eyes. "No, you had every right to ask. Suffice it to say I'm bonded no longer."

Solas wiped her tears. "Hush, da'len. Let us speak of other things."

"Myra."

Myra stirred in her slumber. "Hm?"

"I'm hungry."

Myra could not be asked to open her eyes. Her head throbbed. She waved the child away and nestled into the familiar warmth of her bedmate's chest. "A few minutes, da'len. Let me wake up."

She heard the child start to get ready. She breathed heavily into her lover's chest. "Mmm…Vhenan?" He didn't respond. She tried again. "Vhenan?" No reply. "Trewyn?"

She sat up to find Solas's brow furrowed. Her blood ran cold.

"I-Ir abelas, hah'ren, I—"

He hushed her. "Din'dirthera ma abelas, da'len." He pulled her closer and kissed her forehead sleepily. Myra flushed.

"Are you ready to go yet?" Fennec asked.

"A few minutes, Fennec, a few minutes." Myra sat up in bed. The sun had already risen. "It seems we've slept in. How long do you suppose we slept?"

"Too few hours," Solas said. "I cannot recall even stepping into the Fade."

"The cooks won't be working right now," Myra said.

Solas stared out the window for a long time. "No, I suppose they won't."

Myra unraveled her now messy bun of hair and worked out some of the tangles. "Get ready. We'll head to the tavern and I'll buy us something to eat."
"That won't be necessary—"

"It's rude to decline," Myra interrupted him.

Solas stopped, then smirked a bit. "I suppose it is. You have my thanks."

Myra smiled at him and threw on her daily robe and a ring velvet cloak. Solas threw his shirt over his head. The three of them left Myra's cabin together. Leliana gave them a curious look as they passed and Myra gave a sheepish smile.

"Did we…?" she muttered to Solas. Fennec walked behind them.

"No, we simply fell asleep."

Myra sighed in relief.

"I have questions, lethallan," Solas said.

Myra's heart stopped. She nodded slowly. She owed him an explanation.

They reached the tavern, already bustling with activity. Soldiers eased off the weight of their training with tankards of ale glugged amongst themselves. Myra did not envy them. Her training regimen after Trewyn died was just as brutal as theirs. She spent every day pushing her limits and every night drained to the core, though whether that empty feeling was from the training or her mourning she still wasn't quite sure.

Trewyn… Solas and Fennec found a table for them and sat quietly. Fennec twiddled her thumbs while Solas observed Myra. She acted as flustered as Flyssa when ordering their breakfast of pan-seared potatoes and eggs. This shemlen food is so strange… She shook the thought away as she paid for her meal, taking time to count out the appropriate coins. Her hands trembled as she set them on the wooden counter. Solas's gaze weighed heavy on her. He would have so many questions…ones she was not ready to answer but knew she was obligated to.

When she returned with the food, she sat next to Fennec, away from Solas. "Hah'ren," she bowed her head a little, handing him his plate, then handed Fennec hers. The child's gaze was downcast…she could sense Myra's nerves.

"Here, Fennec," she patted the child's hair and gave her a gentle kiss on the temple. Fennec stuffed her mouth full of eggs, presumably to do anything but talk.

"Ma serraanas, lethallan," Solas began eating.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the group. Myra ate small bites of her food, very conscious of her every movement. She did not meet Solas's gaze, eyes only for her plate.

Fennec finished long before the rest of them, and, unable to stand the tension in the air anymore, it was she who broke the silence. "What's a da'len?"

"Da'len means child," Solas said. "It is often used as a term of endearment."

"What's that?" Fennec asked.

"Endearment? It is affection, the very force that—"

"It means," Myra cut in, "that I care for you. Why do you ask, Fennec?"

"You called me da'len when we woke up." Suddenly, she pouted. "I wanted to make sure you weren't calling me names."

"Have you been called names before?" Myra asked.

Fennec shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Yes. There was this boy from Redcliffe. He would always make fun of my hair." She flattened her curls with her hands. Myra frowned and gently took her hands off her head, kissing them.

"Your hair is curly, like mine, my child. The fault is his for speaking hurtful words, not yours for having curls."

"Curly hair is still an abnormality," Solas said, "but that is not to say it is bad." His eyes twinkled. "It makes you unique."

Myra and Fennec both flushed.

They finished their food and Fennec went to pet the horses. That left Solas and Myra alone to finally have their discussion.

"Trewyn was my betrothed," Myra said, watching Fennec's curls bounce as she ran down the path out of Haven's stronghold. "A skilled hunter in my clan. His arrow always hit its mark." Myra smiled sadly. "We were bonded for a year before the shem—drunk villagers of Wycome…killed him and the rest of his scouting party." Myra clutched her arms around herself. "He left me alone…with child."

"What became of the child?" Solas asked.

"I lost it…even before the quickening…"

A profound silence fell over them, but Haven did not stop to mourn for her lost child. Cries of soldiers training resounded off the mountains, snow still landed on her neck, melted, and chilled her…as icy as the Despair Demon's touch. Myra shivered.

"Ir abelas, da'len. You have suffered much at such a young age." Solas tucked a stray hair behind her ear.

"Ma serranaas, hah'ren." Myra drew closer to him. Then, she laughed a bit. "If my Keeper was here, she would chastise me. 'Why do you still mourn, da'len? His grave will grow muddy with your tears. You are First to the Keeper.'"

"I am not your Keeper," Solas said. "And you are not the First when in my company."

Myra felt her eyes sting a bit with tears that she quickly bit back. "Ma serranaas, lethallin."

"You are most welcome, lethallan."