CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Fenedhis lasa – An expansion of the common curse "fenedhis"

Dirth'ena enasalin – Arcane Warrior

Vir – Way, road

ghilan'him banal'vhen – A derogatory term for Arcane Warrior, "path that leads to nowhere"

Myra had headed to Skyhold's garden to harvest her herbs when she came across a curious sight. Dorian and Cullen sat at a chess table tucked away in one of the garden's corners.

"Gloat all you like, I have this one," Cullen drawled.

Myra began to approach the pair.

"Are you sassing me, Commander?" Dorian said. "I didn't know you had it in you."

"Why do I even—Inquisitor!" Cullen shot up from the table at Myra's approach.

"Leaving, are you?" Dorian smirked. "Does this mean I win?"

Cullen sat back at the table, a piercing glare directed at the mage.

"Are you two playing nice?" Myra asked, eyeing the two of them.

"I'm always nice." Dorian moved his piece forward in a grandiose fashion, turning back to Cullen. "You need to come to terms with my inevitable victory. You'll feel much better."

"Really?" Cullen moved a bishop diagonally. "Because I just won, and I feel fine." He leaned back in his chair, a smirk on his face.

"Don't get smug. There will be no living with you." Dorian stood from his seat, sauntering past Myra and back into Skyhold.

"I should return to my duties as well…unless you would care for a game?"

Myra smirked. "Prepare the board, Commander."

Cullen began to arrange the pieces to their starting positions. Myra sat and watched him in interest.

"Do the Dalish have chess?" He asked her.

"My Keeper has told me of it, but I have never played, personally."

"The rules are simple. Each piece moves in a different fashion, like this, see?" He showed the motions of the different types of pieces, starting with the pawns and ending with the king. "The goal is to ensure the king's safety."

"So this is a game of war," Myra said, observing the detailing of her small ivory piece. "Useful for a Commander, such as yourself." Myra smirked. "Do I even have a chance at winning?"

"Well, if you cheat better than you did in Wicked Grace."

"That was a rule of the game."

"Not…explicitly."

Cullen looked at the board for a moment, deep in thought, then he chuckled. "As a child, I played with my sister. She would get this stuck-up grin whenever she won—which was all the time." He moved one of his pawns. "My brother and I practiced together for weeks. The look on her face the day I finally won…Between serving with the Templars and the Inquisition, I haven't seen them in years. I wonder if she still plays…"

"You have siblings?" Myra asked, moving one of her pawns.

"Two sisters and a brother," Cullen said, adjusting in his seat.

"Where are they now?"

"They moved to South Reach after the Blight. I do not write to them as often as I should."

"I haven't spoken to my Keeper aside from the letters she sent to the Inquisition. I wonder if she's chosen a new First…"

"What does being First mean, exactly?" Cullen asked. "It's a clan's Second-in-Command, right? After the Keeper."

"I wouldn't think of it as a commander as it is a historian and guide. We're responsible for all lore that is retained since the fall of Elvhenan. We help lead the clan, in some ways." She thought back to her days, scouting the edges of the forest to 'protect the clan.' "I led scouting parties, for example." She left out the part about her time spent killing humans that ventured too far into the woods.

Cullen moved his chess piece. "Cassandra tells me you sometimes tell stories to your party as you travel."

"She seems to enjoy them, for entertainment, if nothing else."

"I'd like to hear some of your stories sometime," he said.

"Well, I tell Fennec the same story every night, if you'd like to sit in," Myra offered. "I'm sure she would appreciate your company."

"I'd…like that." Cullen fluffed his coat.

Myra smiled and moved her chess piece. "She speaks highly of you. I truly appreciate you taking care of her while I'm away."

"It's not a problem. She's rather well-behaved for a child."

Myra felt a smile spread across her face, envisioning Fennec petting the horses by the stables. "She's a sweet girl."

The game continued. Myra decided to play fair and felt a strategy formulating in her mind as the game progressed. They continued to chat idly as they played.

"This may be the longest we've gone without discussing the Inquisition—or related matters," Cullen said. "To be honest, I appreciate the distraction."

"Me too," Myra said. "And now that you've taught me to play, maybe I can play Dorian as well."

"By the looks of it, you'd wipe that smug grin right off his face. The game's yours," Cullen gave a lopsided smile. "Well played. We shall have to play again, sometime?"

"I'd like that," Myra said. She stood and began walking away, but circled back around behind Cullen's seat. She placed both hands on his shoulders, causing him to jolt. "But I know you let me win," she said.

His neck reddened. "I…yes?"

Myra giggled and left him in his chair, surely confounded.

Myra awakened long before Solas, but she did not disturb him, knowing how dear he held his journeys in the Fade. She grabbed a breakfast of flapjacks that sat waiting for when he awakened.

When he opened his eyes, he immediately moved closer to her, still half-asleep. He rested his head on her chest and sighed happily.

"What are you reading?" he asked after a few moments.

"Tome of the Knight-Enchanter," Myra said.

"You have chosen your specialization then?"

"It suits me." Myra kissed his head. "Your breakfast is waiting."

"Ma serranaas, vhenan." He kissed her and went to take the plate from the table. He wrinkled his nose. "You know I detest tea."

"It is most fortunate that it is not for you, then. Pass it to me, please."

He handed the teacup to her. She took it and drank. The mint still refreshed her despite, the tea being lukewarm. Solas started to get out of bed, but Myra grabbed his arm.

"Don't I get a good morning kiss?" She batted her eyelashes. He gave a lopsided smile and she smirked in return as he leaned in closer and closer. But just as he drew in a sweet breath of anticipation, he reeled back.

"A valiant effort." He stood up and made for the bookshelf. "An effort that might have been successful…had I not caught the scent of that vile drink on your breath."

Myra laughed and swallowed the tea leaves she'd collected in her mouth. "Remind me to drink less fragrant teas."

Solas returned from their small collection of books, many of which he had Josephine request from the University of Orlais. He pulled the pages open by the ribbon, finding the place where he left off and beginning his study.

Time passed in a slow drawl as Myra toiled through pages of "sacred duties" and "holy callings" to try and obtain the knowledge of her chosen specialization. "Fenedhis lasa," Myra groaned.

"Hm?" Solas peered over to her page and scanned it.

"I suspected as much as the trainer described it to me, but reading it makes my blood boil." Myra looked at him, a deadpan expression on her face. "This book describes the techniques of dirth'ena enasalin. The shemlen took a technique of our people, renamed it, and then turned it into divine fenedhis." She slapped the book. "Can I call these so called 'Knight-Enchanters,' ghilan'him banal'vhen?"

Solas smirked. "If you so wish, though I doubt any of them will understand."

"Elgar'nan, if I wanted to learn vir'dirthena enasalin, I could have asked one of my clan." Myra sighed.

"Do you regret your decision?" Solas asked, returning to his reading.

"No, it still suits me, I simply detest when the shemlen adopt part of our history and repurpose it." Myra wrinkled her nose. "Especially when religion's involved."

Finally, she shook her head. Her eyes fell on his necklace. "I've been meaning to ask, what creature is that from?"

"Hm?"

"Your necklace. What creature did you pull that tooth from?"

Solas looked down and wrapped his fingers around it. "Ah, yes, I've had this for some time now. A wolf with fur as black as a moonless night."

"Why do you wear it?" Myra asked.

"Why do you wear your betrothal ring?"

Myra felt her skin grow cold. "To…remember…"

Solas gave her a sad smile. "Exactly."

Myra frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Solas got off the bed and slowly started to dress. "I was just…thinking I might journey to the Fade. There's a place near here that has the most fascinating spirits."

"Oh…" She awkwardly looked back to her book and tried to start reading it once more.

"Would you…like to come with me?"

"What?"

"Journey with me into the Fade?"

Myra's jaw dropped. "I…didn't think I was invited."

Solas kissed her. "Consider this an invitation."

"The Veil is so thin here," Myra awed as they reached their destination.

Solas set wards around the hot spring, a warm oasis in the frosty mountains. "Can you feel the energy from the Fade tingle on your skin?"

"I can," Myra approached Solas. After he finished placing the wards, he turned his attention to her.

She kissed him. "Ma serraanas."

"You are most welcome." He caressed her face. His hand was cold, so Myra kissed it too.

"I must admit," Solas said, "I am eager to journey into the Fade with you once more." They laid on the grass, close to the hot spring.

"Will you kiss me again?" Myra teased.

"'Twas not I who kissed you."

"You started with the tongue."

"Hush, da'len. Let us sleep."

Myra tossed fitfully for a while until Solas guided her breathing, easing her into relaxation and eventually slumber.

When Myra "awoke," she found she was in the Fade. The area was peaceful, a meadow shaped by the warm relief of the hot spring. Myra sat on the grass and waited for Solas to find her. Better that than wander off and fall prey to demons.

It was not long before Solas called her name. She turned around to see the mage.

"Vhenan." Myra stood and approached him. The grass swayed gently in the breeze. Wisps of spirits circled around them before darting away. Myra watched their iridescent energy trail away in wonder.

Solas chuckled. "Spirits of love."

Myra flushed. Red flowers bloomed around her feet. "This place is beautiful," she said.

"As are you."

"Flatterer."

Solas kissed her and she kissed him back. The spirits of love fluttered back and circled around them.

Myra broke away, flushing. "I am unused to having an audience."

Solas smiled and kissed her again. "They are joyous. I've told them much about you."

"Why?" Myra asked.

Solas tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "Ar lath ma, vhenan. That is not flattery, merely reality."

Myra looked down, sadly.

"What troubles you?" Solas asked.

"It's…been so long," Myra said. She twisted her betrothal ring around her finger.

"You still mourn?"

"My Keeper would chastise me."

"I am not your Keeper."

Myra looked up at him. The spirits of love had dispersed. "Yes, after six years, I still mourn."

"Time only dulls the pain."

Myra nodded solemnly. He embraced her, holding her close.

Her voice quivered as she spoke. "Do you still love me, even if I cannot give you my heart as a whole?"

"We can never let go of what is lost," Solas murmured in her ear.

"Ar lath ma," she said.

"Ar lath ma."

As Solas held her, however, Myra felt a change in the air. She had felt demons enter her dreams all-too-often, but something felt different about this one…felt…familiar.

The air grew chill and Solas released her, readying his staff.

"A demon? They never come here."

"This is my fault." Myra clutched her stomach, remembering the Despair Demon's icy grasp. "It followed me here."

Solas looked to the horizon, and not long after, the Despair Demon in question glided to them. The grass turned to ice. The air went cold.

The demon assumed Trewyn's form, and Myra immediately felt her eyes well up with tears. It was the spitting image of her deceased husband, including the features she'd already forgotten, like the way his eyes crinkled as he gave a ghastly smile.

"Leave," Myra said. "Why do you continue to stalk me?"

Trewyn frowned. "I see you've found another."

"Stop," she said.

Solas stepped between herself and the demon. "I do not know what business you have with her, but begone."

Trewyn simply walked through the two of them, chilling them to the bone. He grasped her stomach from behind. "I wonder when the next child shall come. The last one was so delicious."

"Shut it!" Myra cried.

"Yes, feel the anger, then remember it is your fault. You could not save me, you could not even save our child."

Myra fell to her knees sobbing.

She jolted awake.

She scrambled to her feet and stumbled to the spring, splashing water on her face. Elgar'nan, it burned, but her insides were ice. Her breathing came out ragged and uneasy.

Solas awoke soon after. "Vhenan." She could hear his footsteps from behind.

Myra shook her head, burying her face in her ring velvet cloak. It soaked up the water, but would it soak up her tears? She felt herself on the cusp of sobbing and knew there was nothing she could do to stop it. The Despair Demon's touch still chilled her stomach. This was a pain she'd buried for too long. The lump in her throat grew larger and her eyes stung. Her child, stolen from her that fateful night. Her eyes welled until they spilled over. Her chest heaved, her breathing fast, ragged, and strained. Sobs racked her body as she cried into her cloak.

Solas held her together as she collapsed in on herself. He sat beside her and drew her in close. He did not say anything, but she knew he understood. She knew he understood why she could not journey through the Fade and see all of its wonders as he had. He understood why she shirked sleeping.

"Ir abelas," Solas said.

Ir abelas…an apology, but a more direct translation led to "your sorrow." And for once, Myra felt that perhaps someone finally did feel her sorrows.