***** Ugh. Waking up for work super early should not be allowed. Let's see if I have enough brain cells left to post this...
Somehow my chapter numbers are out of whack. Anyone know where it started?
Another slightly more transitional chapter, which important points none the less. I hope you all enjoy! ****
Part 32
Crashing Down
"Cole, can you turn into an animal?" Astlyr leaned against the cool stones of Skyhold's wall, tilting her head back to watch the sky. She'd sought out her spirit Companion in hopes that he could help her remember her strange dream more clearly. It seemed to her that there had been a great deal about spirits in it. Thus far she had had been little success, but she felt compelled to ask him this question.
"I like the way I look," Cole answered. He was standing with his side to her, half listening to her, and half to the other pain in Skyhold. She knew he wanted to make up for time lost in their travels. He was actively seeking those who needed his help.
"But could you, if you wanted to?"
"But I don't want to," he tilted his head, glancing at her with an expression that told her she was being thick again.
Astlyr sighed and dragged her fingers through her hair, which was still hanging loose from her night with Cullen. "Never mind," she said, smiling. "Go on, Cole. Go help people."
"Thank you," Cole flashed his quick smile, then vanished in a puff of cool air.
Astlyr stood for a long moment, trying to remember. It felt like something important had been learned, but what? Why was she so concerned about a dream anyway? She had the sense of dejavu as she leaned against the wall. As though she had stood just there, but when? One thing she did feel more certain of, and it stuck in her mind as though someone had run up and shouted it in her face; Fen'Harel, in the guise of Solas, had once hinted that the elvhen 'gods' were merely powerful beings, not true gods at all. Astlyr had suspected this for some time, but now, for whatever reason, she was absolutely certain.
She wondered if she should go talk to Fen and his fellow 'deities'. Should she confront them with this knowledge? Didn't the elvish people deserve to know? Or perhaps it didn't matter. Would the elves even believe such a thing? Perhaps if Fen'Harel stood before than and transformed into a wolf? She leaned her head back again, feeling her horns scrape against the wall. Not an all together pleasant sensation.
"You look like you need a break, Boss," Iron Bull and a few of his chargers came strolling up to her. "We're on our way to the tavern for some breakfast ale. Care to come?"
Astlyr raised her eyebrow at 'breakfast ale' but Krem gave her an encouraging smile and so she pushed herself away from the wall. "Alright,". She wasn't much in the mood for a meal, be it alcoholic or otherwise, but any conversation was better than letting her mind roll over and over these half-formed memories like a pebble in a stream. Cullen had asked her about her dream when he had wakened and saw her contemplative expression, but she had been evasive. She felt that she wanted to sort it out herself before she tried to explained it to anyone, save Cole.
Inside the tavern the Chargers claimed a spot on the second floor gallery. There was a good ale to be had, but also dried meat with hunks of hearty, nut-filled bread. A wheel of cheese and some fruit in honey preserve was also laid out and everyone tucked in greedily. Before long the Chargers were deep in conversation. They were eager to be out of Skyhold and rounding up evil-doers again. Astlyr's encounter with the Venatori had excited the mercenaries' imaginations. They reasoned that if one group of Venatori were still skulking around, then there might be others, and wouldn't the Chargers be the best ones to go investigate and deal with the menace?
Astlyr leaned back in her chair, half listening to this conversation, and half to another happening below her on the main floor. A small group of soldiers, who had been recently recalled to Skyhold, were having breakfast together. "Something up, and that's sure," said a male voice.
"We're soldiers, this is a fortress, of course something is up," answered another.
"And if there is?" a female voice this time. "We wait for further orders, like always. What are you two whinging for?"
"Because last time we were here there was a gigantic hole in the sky and some ancient god-whatsit was trying to murder us all." said the first man.
"Yeah, an' we killed him, didn't we? Well, the Inquisitor did, but we helped. We kept his forces busy." the woman pointed out.
"Yeah, that may be true, but I'm in no hurry to repeat that. Especially with the leadership being so tight mouthed about it. With the rifts at least we knew what was going on as soon as the generals did. This time, nary a peep. Just orders: 'Return to Skyhold.'" the second man sounded more grouchy than frightened, which was something, Astlyr supposed. She could work with grouchy.
"I heard it has something to do with the Empress. I've got a cousin lives in Halamshiral an' she says that the Empress has gone into hiding. Something about another assassination attempt." the woman supplied.
"How do Orlesians do it?" the first man wondered. Astlyr heard him smack his mug down on the table. "How do they function with a leader that everyone wants dead all of the time? It's like they cut off one head, only to have their own cut off too. It's ridiculous."
"I never said it made sense," the woman replied, "I just told you what I suspect. I imagine the Empress has called for help from her ol' pal the Inquisitor and we're going to march to her rescue. Just you wait. We'll be dining on frilly cakes in no time. You watch."
Astlyr stifled a smile. Her old pal, eh? No, the Empress had yet to call for any help from the Inquisition, but the men were half correct. They were being kept ready in case Celene should decide she needed them. However, Astlyr had her own motives for recalling the troops, and they were secret mostly because even she was not certain how to articulate them.
"What's up, Boss? You're hardly eating," Iron Bull pointed out, once again drawing Astlyr's mind back to the present location.
Astlyr sighed, settling her elbows on the table and crossing her arms. "I'm not certain, Bull. I can't put my finger on it."
"Maybe you just need the advice of a good spy. Why don't you try me?" He lowered his head, conspiratorial. His horns almost clacked with hers. It felt admittedly odd to be so close to him. She hadn't since they had broken off their relationship. Had she been avoiding her fellow qunari? Even subconsciously? She still valued his opinion. If she had been keeping clear of him, the big man had the grace not to mention it. He was a valuable friend, even if the love she desired from him had never quite been there.
"Well..." Astlyr felt at a loss as to where to begin with her suspicions and concerns. Just as she thought she had wrapped her mind around the problem at hand, there was a terrific crashing sound from outside and the whole tavern shook. There was the sound of shouting, the guard being called to arm and turn out. Astlyr and the Chargers stood as one being, rushing down the stairs, which were already crowded with people, towards the courtyard. Luckily, when two qunari wanted to get someplace, most others had the good sense to stand out of their way.
"Makers balls and Andraste's sainted tits!" Astlyr swore as she took in the sight in Skyhold's main courtyard. A dragon had landed, apparently quite clumsily, right smack in the middle of things. It flailed about as though drunk, errant wings taking chunks out of stone, and horns swiping at any who drew too near.
"Watch out!" Astlyr shouted, "it'll have a breath attack!"
The guards, who were already surrounding and threatening the creature, backed away slightly now that experienced dragon slayers Astlyr and Iron Bull were there. Astlyr could see the relief on their faces. Cassandra and Cullen came hurtling out of Skyhold's main door. Cas charged down the steps, stopping once as the dragon's tail swung around and almost struck her, then hurrying on.
Cullen remained at the top, taking charge of the frightened guard, and any civilians who were still out in the yard. "Get inside a stone structure! Avoid the tavern and the stable! I want everyone not fighting this thing inside Skyhold NOW!"
Astlyr could only spare a moment to admire her man shouting orders with the force of a lion, before she had to turn her attention of the beast at hand. She only wore her simple tunic and winter cloak, but today she had a blade at her hip. Her shield was tucked away safe in its special spot in the armory so she grabbed one off of a passing guard. It was too small by far, so she settled for holding it awkwardly rather than strapping it onto her arm.
Iron Bull and his Chargers were better armed, though none was wearing armor, they each pulled weapons. "Usually strategy, Boss?" Iron Bull called, wielding his huge battle maul as easily as Astlyr might her longsword.
"Yes," Astlyr encouraged, eying the guards who had remained to fight. Older, more seasoned battlers, and several of the soldiers who had been called home to Skyhold and had been working in the practice yard at the time of the strange landing.
"Why would a dragon behave this way?" asked a voice at Astlyr's arm. She looked down to see Stalwart Guardswoman Jones. The woman was wearing her captain's armor and wielding her blade and shield. She was making a valiant attempt not to seem as pants-wettingly alarmed as Astlyr knew she was.
"I don't know," Astlyr admitted, watching the creature flail around. It wasn't attacking with the intelligent motions of a hunter that she was used to. "It must be sick. At least that should make it easier to take down." Astlyr shouted orders to the guards, even as Bull and his people acted, already knowing the plan. "These are tight quarters! Get up under the beast if you can!" This was a stratagem Astlyr and her people often employed against the giant lizards. You risked being stepped on or kicked, but you avoided deadly breath attacks and being chomped in half by extremely sharp teeth.
The guards struggled to obey. Above, on the wall, Astlyr saw that Lady Vivienne had heard the ruckus and gathered a few of her best mages to bombard the monster's back and wings. This assault was highly effective and the creature let out a roar of pain and frustration.
"NO! STOP!" Cole appeared between Astlyr and the dragon, even as she was about to charge with Cas and Jones at either side of her.
"Cole?" Astlyr brought herself up short and then ducked as a wing came around and swatted the air near them. The gust of wind it generated knocked poor Jones from her feet. Cassandra had been ready and braced herself. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"She's not a dragon! She's a lie! She came to warn us!"
"Stand down!" Astlyr shouted, raising her hands to the mages on the wall to signal that they should stop their assault. "Get clear of it!" she ordered the guards and Chargers, who hastily withdrew from under the dragon's belly where they had begun attacking the insides of legs and jabbing spears upwards towards the dragon's scaly midsection. "Cole, what are you saying? Who-" before she asked she knew. Now that she looked more closely at the long necked, slender dragon with scales that shone pale red, almost pinkish, she knew. "Morrigan?"
The dragon swiveled its great head around and seemed to fix Astlyr with a knowing stare before it let out a roar and flailed again, almost toppling sideways and taking a hefty chunk of wall with it.
"It hurts too much! She can't get free of the claws and scales. She wears it like a protective skin, only it's not working and she wants to warn us-" Cole said, just loud enough for Astlyr to hear.
"Viv, can you help?" Astlyr called up to the wall, "This isn't a true dragon! It's lady Morrigan, but I think she's trapped in her animal form. Can you help free her?"
The mages moved cautiously down from the wall, watching the gigantic beast with highly suspicious eyes. Vivienne came to stand beside Astlyr as the dragon swayed and flopped about, "I certainly hope I can assist her," the tall woman said, raising her staff, "before she brings Skyhold down around our ears." Viv gave quick instruction to her fellows and soon varying colors of magic were slithering though the air towards the beast.
The dragon lurched back, head raised. Astlyr resisted the urge to tackle Cole out of the way of the breath attack she anticipated. She was still in battle mode, even if she had been told to withdraw. Cassandra obviously had the same thought as she drew near Astlyr, looking tense, her square jaw tight.
Then, slowly at first, the dragon began to change. It merely shrank at first, what appeared to be smoke roiling up around it like water boiling over the rim of a pot. Several guards gasped audibly as the mages kept up their efforts. Then the smoke concealed the dragon completely, and when it dissipated with unnatural quickness a woman was huddled in the snow, black hair and pale skin unmistakeable. She was on her hands and knees with long cuts up her arms and across her torso from the guard's blades. At least her injuries shrank with her, Astlyr thought with some relief. Without being bidden by Cole Astlyr pulled her cloak from herself and knelt before the hedge mage, draping it over her boney shoulders. "Morrigan?"
"Lady Morrigan, what have you gotten yourself into this time?" Vivienne asked, a look of deepest scorn on her features.
Morrgian coughed, hugging the cloak to herself. Cole teleported to squat at her side, watching with an intense, urgent expression on his face. "Fetch a healer!" Astlyr ordered the nearest guard. The woman snapped to smart attention, nodded curtly, and departed.
Morrigan raised a trembling hand as if to try to stay the guardswoman. "There is no time." she said, her voice quiet and husky.
"The voices are calling, clawing at my insides, fire that will be freed," Cole muttered, rocking forward and back, his hat brim now obscuring his eyes. "They will succeed, I came to warn, to help, and you must heed."
"The demon-ling is correct," Morrigan managed. Even as she spoke the blacking smoke began to gather around her again, as if it had merely been waiting, out of sight. Hastily the mages reacted, their spells moving in to stall the smoke. Astlyr waited for Cole to correct Morrigan, but he seemed too lost in her pain to protest that he was no demon.
Astlyr sensed the urgency of the situation like a knife tickling her ribs. She wondered if she was feeding off of Cole. Cullen, Cas and Iron Bull had drawn closer too, curious. The woman spoke again, haltingly, "They are coming. The Old Ones. The Old Gods of the Elvhenan. One was too eager and mistake was made. Now an army must march. Fereldan is their target and you are all in danger."
"Maker's breath," Cullen muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
"They're coming here? What army?" Astlyr pressed, hoping for more details. This didn't sound good, and vagueness made her feel even more alarmed.
"You shall have to fight them. No one else is ready. No one else will listen," Morrigan choked, her yellow eyes flicking up to meet Astlyr's green. "I stole from her...from mother—Mythal. I took it back," she was fumbling with something in a satchel at her belt. In moments she held out an object dangling on a leather cord.
Astlyr found she had no words. The object item a plain one, much weathered with time and repeated wearings. A smallish jawbone which had once belonged to a wolf, untold ages before. Astlyr's breath hitched. She knew what it was. Somehow she knew, though she wasn't certain how. Had she put the pieces together herself at some point without realizing? "Fen'Harel's-" she caught herself. Guards were drawing closer, the mages were also listening, especially Vivienne who did not look pleased.
"It is," Morrigan nodded wearily.
"Mythal sings in my soul and holds me fast. Forcing me, fighting me, I can only break free for a moment and then I fall," Cole said, using his too-fast tumbling way of speaking as he continued to read Morrigan.
"Is this because of The Well?" Astlyr questioned, her eyes still locked with Morrgian's. A healer had arrived, bandages ready, but now Astlyr didn't want unnecessary ears, so she held up her hand to keep the healer back for the moment. "The voices from The Well of Sorrows?"
"That elf...Abalas, he said that whoever drank from the well would become servant to Mythal." Cassandra said, keeping her voice low.
"We needed the knowledge," Morrigan hissed.
Astlyr was sorely tempted to point out that more likely the mage had wanted the knowledge for herself, little fearing some prediction of slavery to a long dead god. Her hands clenched and heard the leather of her gloves squeak as she squeezed. Morrigan was now working against the Inquisition, possibly the world, though she was doing her best to fight it. She had stolen back Fen'Harel's foci after all. Astlyr took the jaw bone gingerly, fervently hoping that this was not a trap. Her left hand prickled and she made certain to hold it in her right.
"I advise you to move clear," Morrigan's eyes dropped from Astlyr's and her whole, slim frame shook. Astlyr jumped back, knowing what was likely to happen next. Cole darted to the side, shoving a guard who had gotten to close clear of the dragon that was already re-forming in their midst.
"Viv!" Astlyr shouted, gripping the wolf jawbone so tightly that she felt the teeth pinch even through her glove.
The mages reacted without further urging, struggling to wrap their magics around the dragon again as she thrashed, taking out a large flag pole beside the wall stairs. Astlyr felt it then, the thrum of old magic. A spell, ancient and consuming, that Morrigan was wrapped within. The anchor stung as the veil pressed hungrily around them. The mages felt it too. Some even stopped casting in surprise, their own magic jumping and sparking out of control. Morrigan flapped her enormous wings and took to the sky, more gracefully than she had landed. She even avoided smashing into one of the high watch towers as she sped away into the snowy mountains.
Astlyr exhaled a long breath, letting her muscles loosen. Damn dragon had taken her cloak with it, she thought wryly. Everyone was staring at her now, lacking a giant beast to gape at, the Inquisitor was the next best thing. Those who had been near enough to hear snippets of what the shape shifter had said were looking to her for answers. Vivienne came to stand beside Astlyr, arms folded. She didn't need the enchanter to speak to know that she was already feeling self righteous. Of course that upstart Morrigan had gotten herself into some horrible situation, possibly with demons. Her thirst for power was too great. "Well, that was certainly an interesting way to spend my morning. Any thoughts you might care to share on the subject, Darling?"
Astlyr turned to Cullen and Cassandra, "Everyone in Skyhold will have heard the ruckus, even if they didn't investigate it themselves, we need to keep things calm. Get people back to their duties and chores. Let them know that as soon as I have further details myself, I will inform them what is going on."
"I can help," Jones' voice was small, but determined. She stood, almost obscured by the two experienced leaders, looking hopeful.
"Alright, Jones. You do the same with your men. You can also get a few more guards on the walls. I don't want any more dragons dropping in on me without a little more warning."
"Yes ma'am," Jones stepped out from behind Cullen, saluted, then darted off to complete her tasks with her usual dogged enthusiasm.
"Watch that one," Cassandra's eyes sparkled as she watched the young woman go, "she might be something someday."
Cullen managed to stay on task, his gold-flecked eyes intense, "we need answers, Astlyr."
"I know. I wish Morrigan had told us where these 'gods-" she kept her voice low as she said the word, "are holing up."
"We thought they were raising an army in Orlais. You said it would be impossible to move them to Fereldan with any haste," Cas pointed out.
"Perhaps they don't need one, they are 'gods' after all." Iron Bull had strode over, though he kept his chargers away from the conversation. "Maybe they just want to look big, like that dragon guy we fought, and see if they can scare us."
Astlyr caught herself scanning the sky, already on the lookout for further dragon activity. "She mentioned any army, but we have no idea how large. It's moving, but it could take months to get here for all we know."
"And she said Fereldan. Fereldan is large, we have no idea where they might try to set up their army. They'll need food, supplies, shelter after so much marching. We won't be able to miss them," Cullen pointed out, his voice already level, calming.
"I still want to keep our ear to the ground," Astlyr sighed, looking down at the jawbone dangling from her hand.
"Wasn't that Solas's?" Cullen took in the foci with interest.
"I'll explain later," Astlyr said, "for the moment let's get everyone back to work and calm. I need to go have some words with our resident gods. I also want scouts moving out as soon as possible. If there is an army massing anywhere near us I need to know. I want people on both sides of the Frostbacks. They may have sent Morrigan to scout ahead, willing servant that she is now, and Mythal could be privy to her thoughts, so we'll need to be certain we aren't caught unawares."
"Right," Cullen nodded curtly.
"What about Celwydd, or is it June?" Cassandra asked, speaking so quietly Astlyr had to lean down to hear. "We already knew that he was in Fereldan, seeking foci. Could have have resurrected more of these 'gods'?"
"He may have," Astlyr nodded, watching as Cullen moved off to shoo the remaining gawkers about their business. "We know that he got his hands on at least one of the foci. The god of death, I believe."
"Yes, I recall it," Cassandra affirmed with a scowl. "Perhaps they too have been gathering elves to their cause."
"I've heard no reports of elves going missing from alienages here in Fereldan," Astlyr pointed out.
"We do not have as many alienages as they do in Orlais," Cas countered, "and our local Dalish tribe has turned up missing, as I recall."
Astlyr's breath gave a little hitch and Cole was at her side in an instant. She glanced down at him. He didn't seem to know what to do now that he was there, but her worry had called him as plainly as if she had shouted in his direction. She wondered if there was some way she could conceal her pain from him so he would not be so drawn to her every time she felt overwhelmed.
"There isn't," Cole answered her thoughts with a shrug. He did not seem bothered by her unintended ability.
"As long as you are here, Cole," Cassandra had obviously decided to put the boy to good use, "can you tell us anything more? Anything else you could draw from Morrigan."
"Her pain was big, but confused. Not like an Old One, herself. They draw her, hold her because she wanted more and stepped into sadness. It swallowed her. The voices were loud."
"Could you understand the voices?" Astlyr questioned.
"No. They were jumbled and they didn't want me to understand. Even she doesn't understand most of them and they're in her head. They weren't always so loud. She wants them to be quiet again so she can think, but They don't want her to think." Cole enunciated the 'They' and Astlyr understood he referred to the gods who held Morrigan in their sway.
"Alright, Cole, thank you," Astlyr said, placing her free hand on his shoulder for a moment. This seemed to satisfy him and he was gone in an instant with another huff of smoke. "I think I had better have a word with Fen. At the very least I have something to give him," she raised the foci slightly.
"Right, Boss," Iron Bull, who had been standing quietly, mostly keeping onlookers back with his imposing self, dipped a horn to her. "The Chargers and I can start scouting if you like. The boys are getting restless again."
"You mean you are," Astlyr gave him a quick smile. "Don't go too far from Skyhold. I may need you here."
"Right," Bull nodded again, then strode off to join his Chargers. Cassandra too went about her tasks and Astlyr headed up the stairs into the fortress.
She opened the door to Fen'Harel's room with considerably more force than was needed. The two figures inside jumped, looking up at her. She had expected Myfanwy, but instead Dirthamen sat with Fen'Harel, doing what appeared to be research. For a moment Astlyr was staggered by the flash of an odd, half formed memory. The two men standing in a summoning circle accompanied by animals, of all things. Then the memory was gone.
"Astlyr! I have excellent news," Dirthamen stood, a smile spreading over his round face. When he spoke his voice conjured the image of another man in her mind's eye. Tall and dark skinned, with the same fathomless brown eyes. She was caught off guard by his exclamation and didn't know how to react. He went on as though she was not standing in the doorway looking baffled. "I have been communing with the spirits more closely, finding out what I can about this new world. It is fascinating, but by far the most exciting is that I believe I have learned something about your kind, dragon's daughter! You told me that some of your kind believe dragon was bred into your people. The spirits tell me it was the other way around. The dragon was bred out!"
"Bred...out?"
"It took centuries, it may have even begun during our time, though we didn't not know it," Dirthamen gesticulated excitedly. "Somewhere elves, or a species very like elves, were magically combining themselves with dragons. You are, in all likelihood, part dragon!"
"That is...something..." Astlyr was still uncertain how to react. Interesting information to be certain, but she had come here on a mission and already Dirthamen was sending her mind wandering to highly unhelpful images of dragon-elf sexual interactions. She shuddered, then managed to pull her focus back to task and look at Fen'Harel. He was across the room from her, though he was staring at her intently. No. Not at her. At the foci still gripped in her hand. She raised it, slowly, almost as though she dreamed, towards him. "I'm certain you two must have heard the commotion outside."
"We did," Fen admitted. "Dirthamen knew he would not be allowed to investigate so I remained here with him. I also wished to be nearby should Ghilan'nain have need of me."
Astlyr almost asked how the hala goddess fared, but changed her mind. Keep on task. She crossed the room in four long strides and unceremoniously plopped the jawbone into Fen'Harel's hands. "I believe this belongs to you."
It was Fen's turn to look stunned. He stared at the object, his mouth slightly ajar, blue eyes wide. Dirthamen watched this with quiet curiosity. Astlyr guessed he must know the item, and that Fen had been without it, but he seemed to be waiting for her to take charge of the conversation now. Astlyr hesitated, uncertain. A concern had been building inside her for some time now and it was dangerously close to boiling over. She decided she had fought it down long enough. Before she accidentally called Cole to her again she blurted; "your friends are coming. Your fellow gods. That noise from the yard, that was Morrigain coming to warn us."
"Warn us?" Fen'Harel's voice was small, dry sounding. He seemed unable to tear his eyes from the foci resting on his palm. No magic jumped, no sparks glittered from the jawbone to Fen, but the way he caressed the object with his gaze told Astlyr that is was as precious as any jewel.
"Yes," Astlyr pressed on. "She claimed that an army was massing. Coming here to Fereldan. I don't know what will come of it, but I am beginning to think that our last encounter will not be the final time we face off against these 'gods' of yours. My people, my fortress, may find itself at risk once again," her voice was rising, a dangerous growl. She didn't like that Fen wouldn't look at her, so fixated was he on the item he held. She reached out and gripped his slim shoulder. This finally broke him from his reverie.
"Yes," he said, a bit too sharply, "they will come. I had hoped it would take them much more time, but they will come to Fereldan. You know their goal, you have known it all along. They wish to right the world they see as wronged. To repair the damage and restore themselves to godhood."
"They can't succeed. There aren't enough elves in the world to subjugate the other races."
"But they will try," Fen moved back from her, freeing his shoulder. Reverently he pulled the leather cord over his head, allowing the foci to land against his chest where it had been when he had was in Solas' form. If only she had known then, thought Astlyr, that an ancient elven relic of power had been within easy reach during Corypheus' war. If only Fen'Harel had not been so set on hiding what he was to use it. Her annoyance was steadily growing, and turning into anger. "We have elves here at Skyhold. Good people. Don't you think they deserve to know that their gods are alive?"
"You would tell them?" Fen'Harel's eyes became steely as he looked up at her.
"Why not? I am certain that Mythal and Elgar'nan have been telling every elf they meet who they are."
"They may be, but I do not intend to," Fen, stepped back again and bumped into his bed. He sat down hard.
"Why not? If your fellow 'gods' are coming to Skyhold, don't you think the elves here should know? Should be given the choice if they want to follow their deities or the rule of Skyhold?"
"And what good will that do?" Fen'Harel snapped. "I have long indicated, and I suspect you have guessed, that we are no true gods. We did not create the world, we were born to it, mewling and crying just as you were. We elevated ourselves and sought worship, but we are not worthy of it." His tone was bitter and pained. His teeth flashed as he curled his lip in a grimace. "You believe that we should tell them their gods walk when we are not what they seek? We are not the gods they worship, and we never were. The People must choose their own path, this will not help them."
"I'm not talking about 'The People," Astlyr was too loud, too dominant as she loomed over the elf on the bed. Even Dirthamen cringed away from her slightly. "I'm talking about MY people. If the gods come knocking at our gates tomorrow, don't you think they should be told what they face?"
"What would they gain save a new fear of what awaits them? Do you believe they will bravely stand up to these gods if we affirm their beliefs?"
"You'd ask them to stand against their kin?"
"If they must," Fen's voice grew lower, but he dropped his gaze, unable to hold hers. "I had hoped the memory might fade, might ebb, and The People would let go of us. That they might come to understand what we truly are. Instead they clung to dead slave masters, numbly rehearsing their servile ways until we might return."
"Then why not reveal it? Reveal yourself? You could make them see!"
"Because they are not ready!" Fen stood too fast, eyes flashing with electricity he tilted his chin back to face Astlyr with a wild defiance she was not used to from anyone. "The People will not understand! I WILL NOT be worshiped! I won't be what I was, and neither should Mythal. If she stands before our gates I will decry her as a pretender. I will urge our soldiers to fight without fear, but they will NOT do this because I am Fen'Harel, the terrible wolf god." he was breathing hard and Astlyr could feel the air charged with magic. She could sense it surging from him, though he channeled it around her, protecting her, perhaps unconsciously, from his power. Dirthamen made a sound of surprise and alarm. "Do not meddle in that which is not your business, Inquisitor," Fen finished, too sharp teeth cutting his lip and making it bleed.
Astlyr felt shaken for the first time in a very long while. She had not given an inch, even as the mage had faced her with wild and angry magic, yet she felt as though he had struck her. Fen folded back in on himself, sitting down on the bed again and wiping his lip with the back of his hand. Astlyr did step back then, one step, to steady herself. She looked to Dirthamen, "you...you feel the same?" she asked, her voice suddenly husky.
"I am the secret keeper. Until all of us are ready to reveal ourselves, I cannot. I too must be what I am." he said in a gentle tone. It was a stark contrast indeed to Fen's furied explosion. "Fen'Harel is not wrong," he gave Astlyr a wan smile, his dark eyes held a pleading quality. "We are not ready to show what we are to The People because we have yet to figure out what we are. We are new in this new world. We cannot be what we have been. Can never go back. It will be a difficult transition for some," he shot a glance at the wall, on the other side of which Astlyr knew Ghilan'nain was housed.
"Alright," Astlyr's shoulders slumped. She felt as though someone had draped a weight over her. "You're right. This is not my business. The elves in Skyhold are mine to protect, but I can protect them without claiming to be personal friends with their deities. If Mythal should come to our gates under a banner of war, I will tell my people that she is a liar, as Corypheus was."
"It is the truth," Fen muttered. He was slumped, shoulders rounded, staring at his hands in his lap. The picture of dejection. It would have been impossible to convince Astlyr that this elf had been the powerful man who had stood before her only moments ago, seething with deadly magic, had she not been a part of it. "She is no god. No more than I."
"She can still transform into a dragon," Astlyr sighed, rubbing the back of her neck wearily. "Elgar'nan nearly killed us when we encountered him, and even June gave us some trouble."
"You forget-" Dirthamen gave her an encouraging smile, "we have a dragon of our own," he gestured to her and she had to work to keep the grin from her face.
***** Oh, Morrigan. Letting her drink from the Well was one of the toughest decisions in the game for me. When I was playing as Astlyr she knew they needed the Well's power, but also did not feel worthy of it herself, having little knowledge of elfy-ness. So Morrigan drank, but all I could think was "what about that 'serving Mythal' business". I knew that would have to come back to bite eventually.
Mostly I threw in the bit about the quarni because it is my personal head-canon. Couldn't resist. ;)
And then Fen got all bristly. No lie, my hubby and did actually role-played out that scene a bit, because I knew it would drive Astlyr crazy not to tell her people, but Fen would never allow it. Tense. Very tense.
Now, here's something to get you excited for the next chapter: King Alistair!
Next week I will be traveling with my peeps to the DOTA Championships! However, I still plan to have the chapter out on time. If things change I'll let you all know on the FB page: pages/Emily-Luebke-Author/283743888311991
Next: (Should be) 8/6/15
Wanna check out a chapter of an original book I might work on after Old Gods? Check right here!
art/The-White-Rose-Chapter-one-sample-chapter-549484071 *****